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[Illustration: The Farmer Boy

BOSTON

WALKER WISE & Co.]


  THE
  FARMER BOY,
  AND
  HOW HE BECAME COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.


  BY UNCLE JUVINELL.


  EDITED BY
  WILLIAM M. THAYER,
  AUTHOR OF "THE PIONEER BOY," ETC.


  SEVENTH THOUSAND.


  BOSTON:
  WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY,
  245, WASHINGTON STREET.
  1864.


  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
  WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY,
  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
    of Massachusetts


  BOSTON:
  STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON.
  No. 5, Water Street.




INTRODUCTION.

BY REV. WILLIAM M. THAYER.


The reader will remember, that, in the preface of "THE PRINTER BOY," I
promised the next volume should be "THE FARMER BOY; OR, HOW GEORGE
WASHINGTON BECAME PRESIDENT." That pledge has never been redeemed,
though some labor has been performed with reference to it. And now
Providence seems to direct the fulfilment of the promise by the pen of
another, soon to be well known, I doubt not, to thousands of young
readers;--"Uncle Juvinell."

The advance sheets of a volume from his pen, upon the early life of
Washington, have been placed in my hands for examination. I have
carefully perused the work, and find it to be of so high a character,
and so well adapted to the exigencies of the times, that I voluntarily
abandon the idea of preparing the proposed volume myself, and most
cordially recommend this work to the youth of our beloved land. I take
this step with all the more readiness, when I learn that the author
has persevered in his labors, though totally blind and almost deaf;
and I gladly transfer the title which I proposed to give my own book
to his excellent work, well satisfied that the act will prove a public
benefit.

The reader will find that Mr. Heady (Uncle Juvinell) has produced a
very entertaining and instructive volume. It is written in a racy,
sprightly style, that cannot fail to captivate the mind. Partaking
himself of the buoyancy and good humor of boyhood, the author is able
to write for the boys in a manner that is at once attractive and
profitable. He has written a live book of one, who, "though dead, yet
speaketh." It is replete with facts, and lessons of wisdom. The
virtues are taught both by precept and example, and the vices are held
up in all their deformity to warn and save. Religion, too, receives
its just tribute, and wears the crown of glory.

The appearance of this volume is timely. Adapted as it is to magnify
the patriotic virtues, and the priceless worth of the government under
which we live, it will prove a valuable contribution to the juvenile
literature of the land. In this period of mighty struggles and issues,
when our nation is groaning and travailing in pain to bring forth a
future of surpassing renown and grandeur, it is important to inspire
the hearts of American youth by the noblest examples of patriotism and
virtue. And such is WASHINGTON, the "Father of his Country." It is
best that the young of this battling age should study his character
and emulate his deeds. His life was the richest legacy that he could
leave to unborn generations, save the glorious Republic that he
founded; and well will it be for the youth of our country when that
life becomes to them the stimulus to exalted aims. Then loyalty will
be free as air, and rebellions be unknown; then treason will hide its
hydra-head, and our insulted flag wave in triumph where the last chain
of slavery is broken.

This volume will do its part to hasten this consummation of our
patriot-hopes. Over its pleasant pages, then, we extend the right hand
of fellowship to its author, though a stranger to us. Long may his
able pen hold out! Widely may this his last work circulate! Blessed
may be the fruits!

  W. M. T.

  FRANKLIN, MASS., October, 1863.




PREFACE.


Our beloved country, my dear young readers, has passed through one
great revolution; and it is now in the midst of another, which
promises to prove even more momentous in its consequences.

Knowing, therefore, the deep and lasting impression the great events
of the day must needs produce upon your opening minds, the author of
this book has been casting about him how he might contribute to your
and the nation's good. As he is altogether bereft of sight, and nearly
so of hearing, he is, of course, unable to lift a hand in his
country's defence, or raise his voice in her justification. But she
has a future; and for that he entertains an earnest hope, that through
you, the rising generation, he may do something.

To this end, therefore, he has written this volume, wherein he has
endeavored to set forth, in a manner more calculated to attract and
impress the youthful mind than has perhaps been heretofore attempted,
the life and character of our good and great George Washington.

By so doing, he hopes to awaken in your minds a desire to imitate the
example and emulate the virtues of this greatest and wisest of
Americans. For should he succeed in this, and thereby influence a
thousand of you, when arrived at man's estate, to remain loyal to your
country in her hour of peril (who might else have been tempted to turn
their hand against her), then shall his humble pen have done more for
her future welfare than he could have done for her present
deliverance, had he the wielding of a thousand swords.

And, should he ever have reason to suppose that such were really the
case, far happier would he be, even in the dark and silent depths of
his solitude, than the renowned victor of a hundred battle-fields, in
all the blaze and noise of popular applause. Hoping that this little
book may, for your sakes, fulfil the object for which it was written,
and prove but the beginning of a long and pleasant acquaintance, he
will conclude by begging to subscribe himself your true friend and
well-wisher,

  MORRISON HEADY.

  ELK CREEK, SPENCER COUNTY, KY., 1863.




CONTENTS.


  _Introduction_                                                    17

  WHEREIN IT WILL APPEAR WHO UNCLE JUVINELL IS, AND HOW HE CAME TO
  WRITE THE LIFE OF "THE FARMER BOY" FOR THE LITTLE FOLKS.


  I.

  _George at School_                                                35

  IN WHICH THE YOUNG READER WILL FIND SOME ACCOUNT OF THE BIRTH,
  CHILDHOOD, AND EARLY EDUCATION OF GEORGE WASHINGTON, AND THE
  STORY OF HIS LITTLE HATCHET; FROM WHICH HE MAY DRAW A WHOLESOME
  MORAL, IF HE BE DESIROUS OF GROWING IN VIRTUE; TOGETHER WITH
  OTHER MATTERS OF INTEREST AND IMPORTANCE HARDLY TO BE FOUND
  ELSEWHERE.


  II.

  _The First Sorrow_                                                46

  SHOWING HOW GEORGE MET WITH THE FIRST GREAT SORROW OF HIS LIFE
  IN THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER; AND HOW HIS MOTHER WAS LEFT A YOUNG
  WIDOW, WITH THE CARE OF A LARGE FAMILY; WITH SOME REMARKS ON THE
  PRUDENCE AND WISDOM SUE DISPLAYED IN THE REARING OF HER
  CHILDREN; TOGETHER WITH THE STORY OF THE SORREL COLT, WHICH
  UNCLE JUVINELL INTRODUCES BY WAY OF ILLUSTRATING THE CHARACTERS
  OF BOTH MOTHER AND SON.


  III.

  _Playing Soldier_                                                 54

  WHEREIN THE YOUNG READER WILL FIND HOW GEORGE FIGURED AS A
  LITTLE SOLDIER AT SCHOOL; WITH SOME REMARKS TOUCHING HIS
  WONDERFUL STRENGTH AND ACTIVITY OF BODY, AND COURAGE OF SPIRIT;
  AND HOW HE WOULD HAVE FIGURED AS A LITTLE SAILOR, HAD HE NOT
  BEEN PREVENTED BY A MOTHER'S ANXIOUS LOVE; WHICH INFLUENCED NOT
  ONLY THE WHOLE COURSE OF HIS FUTURE LIFE, BUT ALSO THE DESTINY
  OF HIS NATIVE COUNTRY, AND, IT MAY BE, THAT OF THE WHOLE WORLD;
  AS THE LITTLE READER WILL FIND OUT FOR HIMSELF. IF HE BUT HAVE
  THE PATIENCE TO BEAR UNCLE JUVINELL COMPANY TO THE END OF THIS
  INTERESTING HISTORY.


  IV.

  "_Rules of Behavior_"                                             61

  AFFORDING TO THE READER ANOTHER AND HIS LAST GLIMPSE OF
  WASHINGTON AS A SCHOOL-BOY. HERE HE WILL LEARN OF WASHINGTON'S
  MANY INGENIOUS MODES OF GAINING AND RETAINING KNOWLEDGE, AND HIS
  HABITS OF PUTTING IT TO PRACTICAL USES; AND WILL FIND HIS RULES
  OF BEHAVIOR IN COMPANY AND IN CONVERSATION, WRITTEN AT THE AGE
  OF THIRTEEN, WHICH UNCLE JUVINELL WOULD EARNESTLY RECOMMEND HIM,
  AND, IN FACT, ALL HIS READERS, BE THEY BOYS OR GIRLS, MEN OR
  WOMEN, TO STORE AWAY IN THEIR MEMORIES, IF THEY BE DESIROUS OF
  GROWING IN VIRTUE. AND OF DEPORTING THEMSELVES IN SUCH A MANNER
  AS TO GAIN THE GOOD-WILL AND ESTEEM, AND CONTRIBUTE TO THE
  HAPPINESS, OF ALL AROUND THEM.


  V.

  _In the Wilderness_                                               70

  IN WHICH WILL BE SEEN HOW GEORGE BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH OLD LORD
  FAIRFAX, AND WAS EMPLOYED BY THIS GREAT NOBLEMAN TO ACT AS
  SURVEYOR OF ALL HIS WILD LANDS; WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE HE
  LED IN THE WILDERNESS, AND A SOMEWHAT HIGHLY  PICTURE OF
  A WAR-DANCE PERFORMED BY A PARTY OF INDIANS FOR THE
  ENTERTAINMENT OF HIM AND HIS FRIENDS.


  VI.

  _The Young Surveyor_                                              78

  REVEALING STILL FURTHER GLIMPSES OF WASHINGTON AS A YOUNG
  SURVEYOR,--IN WHICH THE READER WILL SEE HOW THAT GREAT MAN
  BROUGHT HIS LABORS IN THE WILDERNESS TO AN END; WITH SOME
  REMARKS RESPECTING THE LOWLAND BEAUTY, AND HOW LITTLE IS KNOWN
  OF HER.


  VII.

  _First Military Appointment_                                      89

  IN WHICH THE YOUNG READER WILL LEARN HOW WASHINGTON, AT THE
  EARLY AGE OF NINETEEN, BECAME ONE OF THE ADJUTANT-GENERALS OF
  THE PROVINCE OF VIRGINIA; AND HOW HE WENT ON A VOYAGE TO THE
  WEST INDIES IN COMPANY WITH HIS BROTHER LAWRENCE, WHO, BEING IN
  QUEST OF HEALTH, AND FAILING TO FIND IT THERE, RETURNED HOME TO
  DIE.


  VIII.

  _Important Explanations_                                          96

  WHEREIN UNCLE JUVINELL AND THE LITTLE FOLKS TALK TOGETHER, IN A
  PLEASING AND FAMILIAR STYLE OF CERTAIN MATTERS CONTAINED IN THE
  FOREGOING PAGES; WHICH, BEING SOMEWHAT DIFFICULT OF
  COMPREHENSION, NEED TO BE MORE FULLY AND CLEARLY EXPLAINED, THAT
  THEY MAY THE BETTER UNDERSTAND WHAT IS TO COME HEREAFTER IN THIS
  INTERESTING HISTORY.


  IX.

  _Indian Troubles_                                                165

  WHEREIN UNCLE JUVINELL GOES ON WITH HIS STORY, AND TELLS THE
  LITTLE FOLKS ALL THAT IS NEEDFUL FOR THEM TO KNOW CONCERNING THE
  CAUSES THAT BROUGHT ABOUT THE OLD FRENCH WAR; TO WHICH THE YOUNG
  READER WILL DO WELL TO PAY VERY PARTICULAR ATTENTION.


  X.

  "_Big Talk" with "White Thunder_"                                115

  EXPLAINING HOW MAJOR WASHINGTON CAME TO BE SENT BY GOVERNOR
  DINWIDDIE ON A MISSION TO THE FRENCH, NEAR LAKE ERIE.--HOW HE
  SET OUT.--WHAT BEFELL HIM BY THE WAY.--HOW HE STOPPED AT
  LOGSTOWN TO HAVE A BIG TALK WITH THE HALF-KING, WHITE THUNDER,
  AND OTHER INDIAN WORTHIES.--HOW HE AT LAST REACHED THE FRENCH
  FORT, AND WHAT HE DID AFTER HE GOT THERE.


  XI.

  _Christmas in the Wilderness_                                    126

  ENABLING THE YOUNG READER TO FOLLOW MAJOR WASHINGTON TO HIS
  JOURNEY'S END, AND SEE HOW HE AND HIS PARTY SPENT THEIR
  CHRISTMAS IN THE WILDERNESS.--HOW HE TWICE CAME NEAR LOSING HIS
  LIFE, FIRST BY THE TREACHERY OF AN INDIAN GUIDE, AND THEN BY
  DROWNING; WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS INTERVIEW WITH THE INDIAN
  PRINCESS, ALIQUIPPA.


  XII.

  _Washington's First Battle_                                      134

  IN WHICH THE YOUNG READER, AFTER GETTING A HINT OF THE
  TREMENDOUS CONSEQUENCES THAT ENSUED FROM THE FRENCH GENERAL'S
  LETTER, WILL FIND SO MUCH TO ENTERTAIN HIM, THAT HE WILL READILY
  EXCUSE UNCLE JUVINELL FROM GIVING THE REMAINING HEADS OF THIS
  CHAPTER; FURTHER THAN TO SAY, THAT IT WINDS UP WITH QUITE A
  LIVELY AND SPIRITED ACCOUNT OF WASHINGTON'S FIRST BATTLE.


  XIII.

  _Fort Necessity_                                                 146

  WHAT BEFELL COLONEL WASHINGTON IN AND AROUND FORT NECESSITY, AND
  HOW HE SUSTAINED HIS FIRST SIEGE; WHICH WILL BE FOUND EVEN MORE
  ENTERTAINING THAN THE ACCOUNT OF HIS FIRST BATTLE, NARRATED IN
  THE LAST CHAPTER.


  XIV.

  _General Braddock_                                               158

  IN WHICH THE YOUNG READER AND COLONEL WASHINGTON FORM THE
  ACQUAINTANCE OF GENERAL BRADDOCK, AND COME TO THE SAME CONCLUSIONS
  REGARDING HIS CHARACTER; AND IN WHICH THE READER IS HONORED WITH A
  SLIGHT INTRODUCTION TO THE GREAT DR. FRANKLIN, WHO GIVES SOME GOOD
  ADVICE, WHICH BRADDOCK, TO HIS FINAL COST, FAILS TO FOLLOW; AND IS
  ENTERTAINED WITH A FEW GLIMPSES OF LIFE IN CAMP.


  XV.

  _Rough Work_                                                     172

  THE READER WILL SEE HOW GENERAL BRADDOCK AT LAST SET OUT ON HIS
  MARCH TO FORT DUQUESNE.--HOW HE GOT ENTANGLED IN THE WILDERNESS,
  AND WAS FORCED TO CALL UPON THE YOUNG PROVINCIAL COLONEL FOR
  ADVICE. WHICH, THOUGH WISELY GIVEN, WAS NOT WISELY FOLLOWED.--HOW
  CAPTAIN JACK MADE AN OFFER, FOR WHICH HE GOT BUT SORRY THANKS; AND
  WILL FIND A SPRINKLING OF WAYSIDE ITEMS HERE AND THERE; WHICH
  SAVES THIS CHAPTER FROM BEING CONSIDERED A DULL ONE.


  XVI.

  _Braddock's Defeat_                                              186

  IN WHICH IS RECORDED THE BLOODIEST PAGE IN THE ANNALS OF AMERICA;
  OR, TO EXPRESS IT OTHERWISE, AN ACCOUNT OF THE FAMOUS BATTLE OF
  THE MONONGAHELA, COMMONLY CALLED BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT; WHICH, IT WILL
  BE SEEN AT A GLANCE, MIGHT HAVE TURNED OUT A VICTORY AS WELL, HAD
  WASHINGTON'S ADVICE BEEN FOLLOWED.


  XVII.

  _Explanations_                                                   200

  WHEREIN UNCLE JUVINELL AND THE LITTLE FOLKS DISCOURSE TOGETHER, IN
  A LIVELY AND ENTERTAINING STYLE, OF DIVERS MATTERS TO BE FOUND,
  AND NOT TO BE FOUND, IN BOOK THURSDAY; WHICH MAY SEEM OF LITTLE
  CONSEQUENCE TO THOSE ELDERLY PEOPLE WHO ARE TOO WISE TO BE AMUSED,
  AND WHO WOULD, ANY TIME, RATHER SEE A FACT BROUGHT OUT STARK NAKED
  THAN DRESSED HANDSOMELY. SUCH OWLS ARE REQUESTED TO PASS OVER THIS
  CHAPTER, AND PERCH UPON BOOK FRIDAY, PORTIONS OF WHICH WILL, BE
  FOUND QUITE AS DRY AS THEY COULD POSSIBLY DESIRE.


  XVIII.

  _Work in Earnest_                                                210

  SHOWING HOW BRADDOCK'S ARMY CONTINUED ITS FLIGHT TO
  PHILADELPHIA.--HOW WASHINGTON RETURNED TO MOUNT VERNON, AND WAS
  SHORTLY AFTERWARDS MADE COMMANDER OF ALL THE FORCES OF VIRGINIA;
  AND HOW HE WENT TO BOSTON, AND WHY; WITH OTHER ITEMS OF INTEREST.


  XIX.

  _Dark Days_                                                      222

  STILL FARTHER ACCOUNT OF WASHINGTON'S TROUBLES WITH THE INDIANS
  AND WITH HIS OWN MEN, AND NOTICE OF HIS MISUNDERSTANDING WITH
  GOVERNOR DINWIDDIE; ALL OF WHICH, COMBINED, RENDER THIS THE
  SADDEST AND THE GLOOMIEST PERIOD OF HIS LIFE.


  XX.

  _A New Enterprise_                                               233

  CONTAINING GLIMPSES OUTSIDE OF THE DIRECT LINE OF OUR STORY, WITH
  A MORE MINUTE AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL ACCOUNT OF HOW WASHINGTON WOOED
  AND WON A FAIR LADY THAN IS TO BE MET WITH ELSEWHERE; WITH SOME
  PARTICULARS TOUCHING AN INTENDED EXPEDITION AGAINST FORT DUQUESNE.


  XXI.

  _More Blundering_                                                244

  SHOWING HOW BRADDOCK'S FOLLY WAS REPEATED BY MAJOR GRANT, AS
  FOREBODED BY WASHINGTON; AND ALSO WHAT CAME OF THE EXPEDITION
  AGAINST FORT DUQUESNE.


  XXII.

  _Washington at Home_                                             255

  GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF WASHINGTON'S MARRIAGE WITH MRS. CUSTIS.--HIS
  RECEPTION BY THE VIRGINIA HOUSE OF BURGESSES.--HIS HABITS AS A MAN
  OF BUSINESS.--HIS RURAL PURSUITS AND AMUSEMENTS.--HIS LOVE OF
  SOCIAL PLEASURES.--HIS ADVENTURE WITH A POACHER; AND MANY OTHER
  ITEMS; ALL OF WHICH, COMBINED, MAKE THIS CHAPTER ONE OF THE MOST
  PLEASING AND ENTERTAINING OF THE WHOLE BOOK.


  XXIII.

  _A Family Quarrel_                                               269

  WHEREIN THE YOUNG READER WILL FIND WHAT WILL BE EXPLAINED MORE TO
  HIS SATISFACTION IN CHAPTER XXIV.


  XXIV.

  _The Cause of the Quarrel_                                       276

  AFFORDING A MORE CLEAR, AND SATISFACTORY ACCOUNT OF THE CAUSES
  THAT BROUGHT ABOUT OUR REVOLUTIONARY WAR THAN WAS GIVEN IN CHAPTER
  XXIII; BUT CHAPTER XXV. MUST NEEDS BE READ, BEFORE A FULL AND
  COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING OF THESE MATTERS CAN BE ARRIVED AT.


  XXV.

  _Resistance to Tyranny_                                          288

  ILLUSTRATING WHAT PART WASHINGTON TOOK IN THESE MEASURES OF
  RESISTANCE TO BRITISH TYRANNY.--HOW HE BECAME A REPRESENTATIVE OF
  VIRGINIA IN THE GREAT COLONIAL ASSEMBLY, OTHERWISE CALLED THE OLD
  CONTINENTAL CONGRESS; AND HOW, UPON THE BREAKING-OUT OF
  HOSTILITIES BETWEEN THE COLONIES AND THE MOTHER-COUNTRY, HE WAS
  MADE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF ALL THE FORCES OF THE UNITED COLONIES;
  WITH OTHER ITEMS TOUCHING THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE CONTINENTAL
  CONGRESS, AND PATRICK HENRY, THE GREAT VIRGINIA ORATOR.


  XXVI.

  _Conclusion_                                                     301

  WHEREIN THE YOUNG READER WILL BE ENTERTAINED WITH THE PLEASING AND
  EDIFYING CONVERSATION WHICH TOOK PLACE BETWEEN UNCLE JUVINELL AND
  THE LITTLE FOLKS, TOUCHING DIVERS MATTERS IN BOOK FRIDAY; WHICH
  DEMAND FURTHER CONSIDERATION FOR A MORE COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING OF
  OUR HISTORY, PAST AND TO COME.




THE FARMER BOY.




INTRODUCTION.


Somewhere in green Kentucky, not a great many years ago, the ruddy
light of a Christmas sunset, streaming in at the windows of an
old-fashioned brick house, that stood on a gentle hillside, half
hidden by evergreens, shone full and broad on a group of merry little
youngsters there met together to spend the holiday with their Uncle
Juvinell, a charming old bachelor of threescore and ten.

What with "blind man's buff," "leap-frog," "hide-and-seek," "poor
pussy wants a corner," Mother Goose, dominos, sky-rockets and squibs,
and what with the roasting of big red apples and the munching of
gingerbread elephants, the reading of beautiful story-books,--received
that morning as Christmas presents from their Uncle Juvinell and other
loving relatives,--these little folks had found this day the most
delightful of their lives.

Tired at last of play, and stuffed with Christmas knick-knacks till
their jackets and breeches could hold no more, they had now betaken
themselves to the library to await the return of their Uncle Juvinell,
who had gone out to take his usual evening walk; and were now quietly
seated round a blazing winter fire, that winked and blinked at them
with its great bright eye, and went roaring right merrily up the wide
chimney. Just as the last beam of the setting sun went out at the
window, Uncle Juvinell, as if to fill its place, came in at the door,
all brisk and ruddy from his tramp over the snow in the sharp bracing
air, and was hailed with a joyous shout by the little folks, who,
hastening to wheel his great arm-chair for him round to the fire,
pushed and pulled him into it, and called upon him to tell one of his
most charming stories, even before the tingling frost was out of his
nose.

As this worthy old gentleman has done much for the entertainment and
instruction of the rising generations of the land, it is but due him
that some mention, touching his many amiable traits of character and
his accomplishments of mind and person, should be made in this place
for the more complete satisfaction of those who may hereafter feel
themselves indebted to him for some of the most pleasant moments of
their lives.

In person, Uncle Juvinell is stout and well-rounded. His legs are fat,
and rather short; his body is fat, and rather long; his belly is snug
and plump; his hands are plump and white; his hair is white and soft;
his eyes are soft and blue; his coat is blue and sleek; and over his
sleek and dimpled face, from his dimpled chin to the very crown of his
head,--which, being bald, shines like sweet oil in a warm
fire-light,--there beams one unbroken smile of fun, good-humor, and
love, that fills one's heart with sunshine to behold. Indeed, to look
at him, and be with him a while, you could hardly help half believing
that he must be a twin-brother of Santa Claus, so closely does he
resemble that far-famed personage, not only in appearance, but in
character also; and more than once, having been met in his little
sleigh by some belated school-boy, whistling homeward through the
twilight of a Christmas or New Year's Eve, he has been mistaken for
the jolly old saint himself. In short, his whole appearance is in the
highest degree respectable; and there is even about him an air of
old-fashioned elegance, which of course is owing chiefly to the
natural sweetness and politeness of his manners, and yet perhaps a
little heightened withal by the gold-bowed spectacles that he wears on
his nose, the heavy gold bar that pins his snowy linen, the gold
buttons that shine on his coat, his massive gold watch-chain (at the
end of which hangs a great red seal as big as a baby's fist), and by
his gold-headed ebony cane, that he always carries on his shoulder
like a musket when he walks, as much as to say, "Threescore and ten,
and no need of a staff yet, my Christian friend." No man is more
beloved and esteemed by all who know him, old and young, than he; for
like Father Grimes, whose nephew he is by the mother's side.--

    "He modest merit seeks to find,
      And give it its desert;
    He has no malice in his mind,
      No ruffles on his shirt.

    His neighbors he does not abuse;
      Is sociable and gay:
    He wears large buckles in his shoes,
      And changes them, each day."

If there is one thing about Uncle Juvinell that we might venture to
pronounce more charming than another, it is the smile of mingled fun,
good-humor, and love, with which his countenance never ceases to
shine, save when he hears the voice of pain and his breast with pity
burns. Touching this same trait of his, a lady once said in our
hearing, that she verily believed a cherub, fresh from the rosy
chambers of the morning, came at the opening of each day to Uncle
Juvinell's chamber, just on purpose to dash a handful of sunbeams on
his head; and, as there were always more than enough to keep his face
bathed with smiles for the next twenty-four hours, they were not
wasted, but, falling and lodging on his gold spectacles, his gold
breast-pin, his gold buttons, his gold watch-chain, and the gold head
of his ebony cane, washed them with lustre ever new, as if his face,
bright and broad as it was, were not enough to reflect the love and
sunshine ever dwelling in his heart. We will not undertake to vouch
for the truth of this, however. As the young lady was a marriageable
young lady, and had been for a number of years, it would not be
gallant or generous for us to mention it; but of this we are certain,
that, when this good old gentleman enters a room, there is a warmth
and brightness in his very presence, that causes you to look round,
half expecting to see the tables and chairs throwing their shadows
along the floor, as if, by the power of magic, a window had suddenly
been opened in the wall to let in the morning sunshine.

If the affections of Uncle Juvinell's heart are childlike in their
freshness, the powers of his intellect are gigantic in their
dimensions. He is a man of prodigious learning: for proof of which,
you have but to enter his library, and take note of the books upon
books that crowd the shelves from the floor to the ceiling; the maps
that line the walls; the two great globes, one of the earth and the
other of the heavens, that stand on either side of his reading-desk;
and the reading-desk itself, whereon there always lies some book of
monstrous size, wide open, which no one has ever had the courage to
read from beginning to end, or could comprehend if he did.

In the languages he is very expert; speaking French with such
clearness and distinctness, that any native-born Frenchman, with a
fair knowledge of the English, can with but little difficulty
understand more than half he says; and in German he is scarcely less
fluent and ready; while his Latin is the envy of all who know only
their mother-tongue. In mathematics, his skill is such, that you might
give him a sum, the working-out of which would cover three or four
large slates; and he would never fail to arrive at the answer, let him
but take his time.

In astronomy, he is perfectly at home among the fixed stars; can
distinguish them at a single glance, and that, too, without the help
of his spectacles, from the wandering planets; and is as familiar with
the motion and changes of the moon, as if he had been in the habit for
the last forty years of spending the hot summer months at some of the
fashionable watering-places of that amiable and interesting orb. But
it is in the history of the nations and great men of the earth that
Uncle Juvinell most excels, as shall be proved to your entire
satisfaction before reaching the end of this volume.

And yet, notwithstanding the vastness of his learning and the gigantic
powers of his mind, he can, when it so pleases him, disburden himself
of these great matters, and descend from his lofty height to the
comprehension of the little folks, with as much ease as a huge
balloon, soaring amidst the clouds, can let off its gas, and sink down
to the level of the kites, air-balls, and sky-rockets wherewith they
are wont to amuse themselves.

Being an old bachelor, as before noticed, he, of course, has no
children of his own; but, like the philosopher that he is, he always
consoles himself for this misfortune with the reflection, that, had he
been so favored, much of his love and affection must needs have been
wasted on his own six, eight, or ten, as the case might have been,
instead of being divided without measure among the hundreds and
thousands of little ones that gladden the wedded life, and fill with
their music the homes of others more blessed.

Living, as all his brothers do, in easy circumstances, he has abundant
time and leisure to devote himself to the particular interest and
enjoyment of these little ones; and is always casting in his mind what
he may be doing to amuse them, or make them wiser, better, and
happier.

Such is the ease, heartiness, and familiarity with which he demeans
himself when among them, and enters into all their little pastimes and
concerns, that they stand no more in awe of him than if he were one of
their own number; and make him the butt of a thousand impish pranks,
at which he laughs as heartily as the merriest rogue among them. And
yet it is for that very reason, perhaps, that they love him so
devotedly, and would give up their dog-knives or wax dolls any day,
sooner than show themselves unmindful of his slightest wishes, or do
aught that could bring upon them even his softest rebuke. They make
nothing of taking off his gold spectacles, and putting them on their
own little pugs to look wise; or running their chubby fists into the
tight, warm pockets of his breeches, in quest of his gold pencil or
pearl-handled knife; or dashing like mad over the yard, with his
gold-headed cane for a steed; or stealing up behind him, as he stands
with his back to the fire, and slyly pulling out his big red bandanna
handkerchief, wherewith to yoke the dog and cat together as they lie
sociably side by side on the hearth-rug. In short, he will suffer them
to tease him and tousle him and tumble him to their hearts' content,
and set no limits to their liberties, so long as they are careful not
to touch his snowy linen with their smutched fingers; for, if Uncle
Juvinell has one fault in the world, it is his unreasonable partiality
for snowy linen. But, were we to go on with our praises and
commendations of this best of men, we should fill a large volume full
to overflowing, and still leave the better half unsaid: so we must
exercise a little self-denial, and forego such pleasing thoughts for
the present, as it now behooves us to bring our minds to bear upon
matters we have more nearly in view.

Seeing how earnestly the little folks were bent upon drawing out of
him one of his longest stories, Uncle Juvinell now bade them sit down
and be quiet till he should have time to conjure up something more
charming than any Arabian tale they had ever heard; and throwing
himself back in his great arm-chair, and fixing his eyes on the
glowing coals, that seemed to present to his fancy an ever-shifting
panorama, was soon lost in profound meditation. And the longer he
thought, the harder he looked at the fire, which knowingly answered
his look with a winking and blinking of its great bright eye, that
seemed to say, "Well, Uncle Juvinell, what shall we do for the
entertainment or instruction of these little people to-night? Shall we
tell them of that crew of antic goblins we wot of, who are wont to
meet by moonlight, to play at football with the hanged man's head,
among the tombstones of an old graveyard? Or may be that dreadful
ogre, with the one fiery eye in the middle of his forehead, who was in
the habit of roasting fat men on a spit for his Christmas dinners,
would be more to their taste. Or, if you prefer it, let it be that
beautiful fairy, who, mounted on a milk-white pony, and dressed in
green and gold, made her home in an echoing wood, for no other purpose
than to lead little children therefrom, who might by some ill chance
be separated from their friends, and lose their way in its tangled
wilds. Or perhaps you are thinking it would be more instructive to
them were we to conjure up some story of early times in green
Kentucky, when our great-grandfathers were wont to take their rifles
to bed with them, and sleep with them in their arms, ready to spring
up at the slightest rustling of the dry leaves in the woods, and
defend themselves against the dreaded Indian, as with panther-like
tread he skulked around their lonely dwellings."

To each and all of these, Uncle Juvinell shook his head; none of them
being just exactly the thing he wanted. At length, finding that the
fire hindered rather than helped him to make a choice, he rose from
his seat, turned his back upon it, and looked from one bright face to
another of the circle before him, till his eye rested on Daniel, who
was among the oldest of the children, and was, by the way, the young
historian of the family, and, in his own opinion, a youth of rather
uncommon parts. He had that morning received from his uncle, as a
Christmas present, that most delightful of story-books, "Robinson
Crusoe;" but having seen the unlucky sailor high, but not dry, on his
desert island, and having run his eye over all the pictures, he had
laid it aside, and was now standing at the reading-desk, looking as
wise as a young owl in a fog over a very large book indeed, in which
he pretended to be too deeply interested to finish a slab of
gingerbread that lay half munched at his side.

Seeing his little nephew thus engaged, Uncle Juvinell smiled a quiet
smile all to himself, and, after watching him a few moments, said,
"Dannie, my boy, what book is that you are reading with so much
interest that you have forgotten your gingerbread?"

"Irving's Life of Washington, sir," replied Daniel with an air.

"A good book, a very good indeed; but too hard for you, I fear," said
Uncle Juvinell, shaking his head. "Tell me, though, how far you have
read."

"To Braddock's defeat, sir," replied Daniel.

"You have been getting over the ground rather fast, I am thinking; but
tell me how you like it," said Uncle Juvinell, by way of drawing his
little nephew out.

"Here and there, I come to a chapter that I like very much," replied
Daniel: "but there are parts that I don't understand very well; and I
was just thinking that I would point them out to you some time, and
get you to explain them to me; as you will, I am certain; for you know
every thing, and are so obliging to us little folks!"

At this, Uncle Juvinell's face lighted up as with a brilliant thought;
but, without seeming to notice his little nephew's request just then,
he reseated himself, and again began looking hard at the fire. The
fire opened its great bright eye more widely than before, and looked
as if it were putting the question, "Well, sir, and what is it now?
Out with it, and I will throw what light I can on the matter." After a
few moments, there appeared to be a perfect understanding between
them; for the fire with a sly wink seemed to say, "A happy thought,
Uncle Juvinell,--a very happy thought indeed: I was just on the point
of proposing the very same thing myself. Come, let us go about it at
once, and make these holidays the brightest and happiest these little
folks have ever known, or ever could or would or should know, in all
their lives." And the fire fell to winking and blinking at such an
extravagant rate, that the shadows of those who were seated round it
began bobbing up and down the wall, looking like misshapen goblins
amusing themselves by jumping imaginary ropes, the gigantic one of
Uncle Juvinell leaping so high as to butt the ceiling.

After several minutes of deep thought, the old gentleman rose, and
stood on his short fat legs with the air of a man who had made up his
mind, and with a smile on his face, as if sure he was just on the
point of giving them all a pleasant surprise. "Laura, my dear," said
he, "take down that picture from the wall you see hanging to the right
of the bookcase; and you, Ella, my darling, take that bunch of
feathers, and brush off the dust from it. Now hand it to me. This, my
cherubs," he went on, "is the portrait of the good and great George
Washington, who is called the Father of our country. It is to him,
more than to any other man, that we owe the blessings of freedom,
peace, and prosperity, we now enjoy in larger measure than any other
people of the wide earth; and it was for these same blessings that he
fought and struggled through all the weary years of our Revolutionary
War, amidst difficulties, dangers, and discouragements such as never
before tried the strength of man. And when, in the happy end, he, by
his courage, skill, and fortitude, and abiding trust in the protection
of an all-wise Providence, had come out victorious over all, and
driven our cruel enemies from the land, so that our homes were once
more gladdened with the smiles of peace and plenty,--then it was that
a grateful people with one voice hailed him chosen of the Lord for the
salvation of our beloved country. Blessed be the name of George
Washington,--blessed for evermore!" And a big tear of love and
thankfulness started from each of Uncle Juvinell's mild blue eyes,
trickled slowly over his ruddy cheek, and, dropping thence, went
hopping and sparkling down his large blue waistcoat.

At this the little folks looked very grave, and thought to themselves,
"What a good man Washington must have been, and how much he must have
done and suffered for the welfare of his fellow-beings, thus to have
brought the tears to our dear old uncle's eyes!" After looking at the
picture for some moments in silence, they began talking about it, each
in his or her own fashion; while Uncle Juvinell listened with much
interest, curious to see what different impressions it would produce
on their minds.

"That scroll he holds in his left hand must be his farewell address to
his army," said Daniel, the young historian, looking very wise.

"What a fine long sword he carries at his side!" said Bryce, a
war-like youngster who had just climbed to the summit of his ninth
year, and had, as you must know, a wooden sword of his own, with which
he went about dealing death and destruction to whole regiments of
cornstalks and squadrons of horse-weeds, calling them British and
Tories.

"How tall and grand and handsome he looks!" said Laura, a prim and
demure little miss of thirteen: "in his presence, I am sure I could
never speak above a whisper."

"That, yonder, among the trees and evergreens on the hill, must be the
house where he lived," said Ella, a modest, sweet-mannered little lady
of twelve. "What a beautiful place it is! and what a happy home it
must have been when he lived in it!"

"And see how the hill <DW72>s down to the river, so grassy and smooth!
and such a nice place for little boys to roll over and over down to
the bottom!" said Ned, a rough-and-tumble youngster of ten, who spent
one-half of the sunshine with his back to the ground and his heels in
the air.

"And see the beautiful river so broad and so smooth, and the great
ships afar off going down to the sea!" said Johnnie, a little poet of
eight, who passed much of his time dreaming with his eyes open.

"And such a pretty play-house as I see there among the bushes on the
hillside!" said Fannie, a stout little matron of five, the mother of a
large and still increasing family of dolls.

"That is not a play-house, Fannie, but the tomb where Washington lies
buried," said Dannie with an air of superior wisdom.

"What a splendid white horse that black man is holding for him! How he
bows his neck, and champs his bit, and paws the ground!" said Willie,
a harum-scarum, neck-or-nothing young blade of fourteen, who would
have given his best leg to have been the owner of a galloping,
high-headed, short-tailed pony.

"What is he doing so far away from home without his hat, I wonder?"
said Master Charlie, a knowing young gentleman of eight, who was much
in the habit of doubting everybody's eyes and ears but his own.

"How kind and good he looks out of his eyes, just like father!" said
Mary, an affectionate and timid little creature of seven.

Just then, Addison, a plump little fellow of four, in all the glory of
his first new jacket and his first new breeches, who was standing on
the top round of Uncle Juvinell's chair, suddenly cried out in a very
strong voice for his age, "Oh! he looks just like Uncle Juvinell: now
don't he, Cousin Mary?"

For a man of his appearance to be thus compared with so stately and
dignified a man as Washington was a thing so ludicrous, that Uncle
Juvinell was surprised into the heartiest fit of laughter that he had
enjoyed that day. When it was over, he bade Laura hang up the picture
again in its accustomed place, and began where he had left off some
time before: "Now, my dear children, it came into my mind, while I was
talking with your Cousin Dannie a little bit ago, that I could not
tell you any thing more entertaining and instructive than the story of
Washington's life. It will, I am quite sure, interest you much: for
although he was such a great man,--the greatest, no doubt, that ever
lived,--and so awful to look upon, yet, for all that, his heart was
full to overflowing with the most tender and kindly affections, and,
if you can believe it, quite as fond of little children as your Uncle
Juvinell; often joining in their innocent sports for a whole hour at a
time. Let me see. This is Wednesday; and we have seven, eight, long
holidays before us to be as happy as skylarks in. Now, I am thinking,
that, if we would have next New Year's Day find us better and wiser,
we could not hit upon a more proper plan for beginning so desirable an
end than by spending a part of each day in making ourselves acquainted
with the life and character of this good and great man, and, at the
close of each evening's lesson, talking over what we have learned, to
our more complete understanding of the same. And now, my merry ones,
speak out, and tell me what you think of it."

"It will be just exactly the very thing," said wise Daniel.

"Glorious!" said rollicking Willie.

"Charming!" said prim and demure Miss Laura.

"'Twill be delightful, I am sure," said modest Ella.

"Nothing could please me better, if we have a good big battle now and
then," said war-like Bryce.

"I wonder if it will be as interesting as 'Robinson Crusoe'?" put in
doubting Charlie.

"Or 'Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp'?" chimed in dreaming Johnnie.

"And we'll all listen, and be so good!" said timid, loving little
Mary.

"Wait a moment for me, uncle, till I run down to the cabin, just to
see how Black Daddy's getting along making my sled," said hair-brained
Ned.

"And wait a little bit for me too, uncle, till I go and put my dolly
babe to bed; for she might take the measles if I keep her up too
long," said motherly Fannie.

"And let me sit on your knee, uncle; Cousin Mary wants my chair," said
Addison, the youngest one of them all, at the same time climbing up,
and getting astride of Uncle Juvinell's left fat leg.

"Then settle yourselves at once, you noisy chatterboxes," said Uncle
Juvinell with a shining face; "and mind you be as quiet and mute as
mice at a cat's wedding while I am telling my story, or I'll"--His
threat was drowned in the joyous shouts of the children as they
scrambled into their chairs. When they had all put on a listening
look, he poured out a little yellow, squat, Dutch mug brimful of rich
brown cider from a big blue pitcher that Black Daddy had just placed
on a table close at hand, and, having wet his whistle therewith, began
his story. And now and then, as the story went on, the fire, keeping
its bright, watchful eye upon the old gentleman, would wink at him in
a sly manner, that seemed to say, "Well done, Uncle Juvinell,--very
well done indeed. You see, sir, I was quite right in what I told you.
We have hit upon the very thing. The little folks are enchanted: they
are drawing in wisdom with every breath. A merry Christmas to us all!"
Pop, pop! hurrah! pop!




I.

GEORGE AT SCHOOL.


A hundred years ago or more, there stood on the green <DW72>s of the
Potomac, in the county of Westmoreland, Va., an old red farmhouse,
with a huge stone chimney at each end, and high gray roof, the eaves
of which projected in such a manner as to cover a porch in front and
two or three small shed-rooms in the rear. Now, although this house
was built of wooden beams and painted boards, and was far from being
what could be called, even for those times, a fine one,--looking as it
did more like a barn than a dwelling for man,--yet, for all that, it
had the honor of being the birthplace of the good and great George
Washington, who is said, by many very wise persons who ought to know,
to have been the greatest man that ever came into this pleasant and
glorious world of ours.

His father, Augustine Washington, was married early in life to Jane
Butler, who died after having borne him two sons, Lawrence and
Augustine. In a year or two after this loss, feeling the want of some
one to gladden his lonely heart and home, he married Mary Ball, the
belle of Horseneck, and said to have been the most beautiful young
lady in all that part of the country. By this union he was blessed
with six children, of whom our George, the eldest, was born on the
twenty-second day of February, in the year of our Lord one thousand
seven hundred and thirty-two.

It has often appeared strange to me that nothing should be known of
this great man's life up to the completion of his fifth year: and I am
sorry for your sakes, my little ones, that such is the case; for it
would be such a nice beginning to our story, could we say with
certainty that he distinguished himself by walking alone at the age of
five months; that he could pronounce "Mother" and "Good" with perfect
distinctness when but one year old; that his mother taught him at the
age of two to kneel by her side, and lisp, before going to his evening
rest, that beautiful prayer, beginning with, "Now I lay me down to
sleep;" that he rode like mad, at the age of three, round and round
the yard, on his father's buckhorn-headed cane; and that he rode on a
real horse at the age of four, and went galloping like a young Tartar
round and round the meadow in front of the house, to the delight of
his young mother, who watched him from the window. Of all this, and a
great deal more of the same sort, you would, I doubt not, like much to
hear, and I would like much to tell you; but we must keep within the
bounds of true history, and content ourselves with the knowledge of
that which really did happen. With this safe rule for our guidance, we
will therefore proceed at once to take up the thread of our story at
that period of George's boyhood, concerning which some certain record
has come down to our time.

At the age of five, when he was old enough to walk all alone for a
mile or two through the woods and fields, his parents started him to
school one bright spring morning, with his little basket on his arm,
containing his dinner and a bran-new spelling-book, to take his first
tiny steps in the flowery path of knowledge.

His first teacher was a Mr. Hobby, an old man, who lived on a distant
part of his father's plantation, and is said to have been besides the
sexton or grave-digger of the neighborhood; and was, I have my private
reasons for thinking, a broken-down old soldier, with a big cocked hat
that shaded a kindly and weather-beaten face, and a wooden leg,--an
ornament for which he was indebted to a cannon-ball, and took more
pride in than if it had been a sound one of flesh and bone. As it is
rarely ever the case that men with wooden legs are called upon to
fight the battles of their country, this worthy old man, who well knew
how to read and write, and cipher too, must needs earn his livelihood
by teaching school, and sowing his knowledge broadcast among the
little children of the neighborhood.

Accordingly, it was to old Mr. Hobby, as everybody called him, that
George was indebted for his first insight into the mysteries of
book-learning; and although he was in due time to become the greatest
man of this or any other age or country, yet he began his education
by first learning his A B C, just as did other boys of that day,
just as they are now doing, and just as they will continue to do
for all time to come. After he had taken his A B C into his memory,
and set them there in a straight row each in its proper place, he was
not long, depend upon it, in reaching the middle of his spelling-book;
and as soon as he could, without anybody's help, climb over tall and
difficult words of five or six syllables, such as "immortality" or
"responsibility," his master put him in the English Reader, where
he soon overtook and went clean ahead of boys a great deal older
than himself. From reading, he in a short time rose to writing;
and it was said by those who knew him best, that he learned to write
a neat round hand without ever once blotting his copy-book; and
furthermore, that such a thing as a dirty, thumb-worn, dog-eared
book was never seen in his hand. His next step in the path of
knowledge was arithmetic; and, in less time than you can well
believe, he had got the multiplication-table so thoroughly by heart,
that he could run over it as fast backwards, from twelve times twelve
to twice one, as common boys straightforward, even with the open book
before their eyes. So well did he study, that, in less than four
years' time after his first starting to school, the single rule of
three was no more to him than long division to most boys; and he
could repeat the tables of weights and measures as glibly as you,
Master Johnnie, can rattle off the charming story of "Old Mother
Hubbard and her Wonderful Dog."

Now, the rapid progress George made in his studies was owing not so
much to his uncommon aptitude at learning as to the diligence and
industry with which he applied himself to them. For example: when
other boys would be staring out at the window, watching the birds and
squirrels sporting among the tree-tops; or sitting idly with their
hands in their pockets, opening and shutting their jack-knives, or
counting their marbles, or munching apples and corn-dodgers in a
sneaking and unbecoming manner behind their books; or, more naughty
still, shooting paper bullets at old Hobby's wooden leg as he eat
dozing behind his high desk of a drowsy summer afternoon,--our George,
with his hands to his ears to keep out the schoolroom buzz, would be
studying with all his might; nor would he once raise his eyes from his
book till every word of his lesson was ready to drop from his tongue's
end of its own accord. So well did he apply himself, and so attentive
was he to every thing taught him, that, by the time he was ten years
old, he had learned all that the poor old grave-digger knew himself;
and it was this worthy man's boast in after-years, that he had laid
the foundation of Washington's future greatness. But what old Wooden
Leg--for so they always called him when his back was turned--could not
teach him at school, little George learned at home of his father and
mother, who were well educated for those days; and many a long winter
evening did these good parents spend in telling their children
interesting and instructive stories of olden times, far-off countries,
and strange people, which George would write down in his copy-book in
his neatest, roundest hand, and remember ever afterward.

A more prudent and careful father, and a more discreet and
affectionate mother, than Mr. Washington and his wife Mary, perhaps
never lived. So earnest and watchful were they to bring up their
children in the fear of the Lord, and in the practice of every noble
virtue, that their dutiful behavior and sweet manners were the talk
and praise of the good people for miles and miles around. They taught
them to be neat and orderly in their dress, as well as civil and
polite in their manners; to be respectful to their elders; to be kind
to one another, and to every thing God hath made, both great and
small, whether man or bird or beast: but chiefly were they concerned
to teach them the love of truth, and to tell it at all times when it
should be their duty to speak out, let the consequences be what they
might. To show you that such wise and careful training was not lost
on the tender mind of George, I will tell you the story of his little
hatchet, as it may serve you good stead in the day when you may be
tempted to wander astray from the path of truth and virtue.

One Christmas Eve, when the sharp, frosty air made the blood brisk and
lively in the veins, little George, who was then about six years old,
hung up his stocking on the mantel of the huge chimney, saying to
himself as he did so, "Good Santa Claus, be kind to me while I am
sleeping peacefully." Next morning, bright and early, just as a great
Christmas log had begun to blaze and crackle on the hearth, he jumped
spryly from his bed, and, without stopping to put on his clothes, ran
to his stockings to see what good old Santa Claus had brought him
while he slept. I leave you to picture to your minds his delight upon
finding therein a little Indian tomahawk, with a bright keen edge and
long red handle. It would have done all your hearts good to have seen
how he skipped and danced around the room, and flourished his hatchet
high over his head; how he went showing it to every one about the
house, white and black; praising good old Santa Claus to the very
skies, and never once feeling the want of his breeches. But, between
you and me, I am rather inclined to suspect, that, if we had any means
of arriving at the facts of the case, it would be found that Santa
Claus had no more concern in this matter than your Uncle Juvinell
himself. To my mind, there is more reason in the supposition, that his
father, seeing the jolly old saint pass by at a late hour of the night
in an empty sleigh, and that the children were not likely to have
their stockings filled for that once, got up early in the morning, and
put the hatchet in there himself, rather than that his little son
should be disappointed.

Be this as it may, it was all the same to George; and he was as happy
as happy could be. At the breakfast-table, he could hardly eat his
bread and milk for looking at his shining axe, which he had laid
beside him on the table; and, before it was fairly broad daylight, he
was out at the wood-yard, ankle-deep in snow, cutting and chopping
away at the hard-seasoned beech and maple logs, as if it lay with him,
for that day at least, to keep the whole family, white and black, from
freezing. By and by, however, he found this more work than play, and
began to cast his earnest young eyes about him for something green and
soft whereon to try the edge and temper of his hatchet. Presently, as
ill-luck would have it, a fine young English cherry-tree, just over
the fence hard by, caught his attention, which, without further ado,
he fell to hacking might and main; and the way he made the little
chips fly was a thing surprising to see.

Next morning, his father, passing by that way, saw the mischief that
had been done, and was sorely displeased: for he had planted and
reared this selfsame tree with the tenderest care; and, of all the
trees in his orchard, there was not one other he prized so highly.
Being quite sure that it was the work of some of the black children,
he went straightway down to the <DW64> quarter, bent on finding out,
and bringing the unlucky culprit to a severe account.

"Dick," said he to the first one he met, "did you cut that
cherry-tree?"

"No, mauster; don't know nothin' 'bout it," said Dick, showing the
whites of _his_ eyes.

"Did you, Sam?" said Mr. Washington, putting the same question to
another little woolly-head.

"No, mauster; don't know nothin' 'bout it," said Sam, likewise showing
the whites of his eyes.

The same question was put to Harry, who gave Dick and Sam's answer
word for word, and, to add force to his denial, showed the whites of
his eyes in like manner; and so on, till more than a dozen had been
questioned with the same result; when it came to Jerry's turn to make
denial, and show the whites of his eyes.

Now, you must know there was not a more audacious, mischief-making,
neck-or-nothing black brat than this same Jerry to be found on the
banks of the Rappahannock, which is a very long river indeed. As a
fish lives in water, or a salamander in fire, so did Jerry live and
breathe, and have his being, in mischief; or, in other words, mischief
was the element in which Jerry found his chief delight. If any mishap
befell anybody or any thing, at any hour of the day or night, on any
part of the plantation, on foot or on horseback, at rest or in motion,
it was sure to be brought and laid at Jerry's door. Being aware of all
this, Mr. Washington was now quite sure, that, as none of the rest had
cut the cherry-tree, Jerry himself must be the offender; and so he put
the question to him; to which Jerry, showing the whites of his eyes,
made answer, "No, mauster; I didn't cut the cherry-tree: indeed,
indeed, and double deed, I didn't cut the cherry-tree."

"Ah! Jerry," said his master, "if you always told the truth, I should
know when to believe you; but, as you do not, you must take the
consequences of your evil ways, and blame nobody but yourself."

Upon hearing this, Jerry began dancing and hopping around the room in
a very brisk and lively manner, even before his master was within ten
feet of him, as if he already felt the switch about his legs.

Just then, in the very nick of time, George came walking leisurely by,
hatchet in hand; who, upon seeing how matters stood, without a
moment's hesitation, ran up to his father, and, dropping his hatchet,
caught him round the leg, just as the first stroke of the switch was
about to descend on the calves of the unlucky Jerry.

"O papa, papa!" cried he, "don't whip poor Jerry: if somebody must be
whipped, let it be me; for it was I, and not Jerry, that cut the
cherry-tree. I didn't know how much harm I was doing; I didn't
indeed." And the child began crying piteously.

With a look of glad surprise, his father, dropping the switch, caught
his brave little boy in his arms, and folded him tenderly, lovingly,
to his bosom. "Now, thanks be to God," cried he, "thanks be to God,
that I have a son whose love of truth is greater than his fear of
punishment! Look on him, my black children, look on him, and be as
near like him as you can, if you would have the love of your master
and the good-will of all around you."

Seeing the unlooked-for turn the affair had taken, and not having the
words to express the feelings of joy and thankfulness that swelled
almost to bursting in his little black breast, Jerry darted through
the door, out into the yard, kicked up his heels, yelped like a young
dog, threw a somerset in the snow, and went rolling over and over down
to the bottom of the hill, and ever after loved his noble little
master to distraction.




II.

THE FIRST SORROW.


When George had learned all that poor old Hobby could teach him, his
father, to reward him for his diligence and good behavior at school,
indulged him in two or three weeks' holidays, which he went to spend
at a distance from home, among some friends and relatives. Here, as
usual, he was made much of; for, being a great favorite with all who
knew him, he met with a cordial reception wherever he went; and what
with hunting and fishing, riding and visiting, the time spent here was
the most delightful he had ever known. But hardly had half the happy
days flown by, when word came that his father was sick, even unto
death; and that, of all things, he most desired to look upon his noble
boy once more before he died. With a sadness and heaviness of heart he
had never before experienced, George set out on his return home, where
he arrived just in time to receive his dying father's blessing. Long
and deeply did he mourn his loss; for his father was most tenderly
beloved by his children, and greatly esteemed by his friends and
neighbors as a useful member of society, and a man of many sterling
traits of character.

Mrs. Washington was thus left a young widow with a large family of
young children, whom it now became her duty to provide for and educate
in a manner becoming a Christian mother; and how well and faithfully
and lovingly she discharged this sacred trust, is most beautifully set
forth in the life and character of her great son. She was a woman of
uncommon strength and clearness of understanding, and her heart was
the home of every pure and noble virtue. She was mild, but firm;
generous, but just; candid whenever she deemed it her duty to speak
her mind, but never losing sight of the respect and consideration due
to the feelings and opinions of others. She was gentle and loving with
her children, yet exacting from them in return the strictest obedience
to her will and wishes. But of all virtues most sacred in her eyes was
that of the love of truth, which she ever sought to implant in their
minds; assuring them, that, without it, all other virtues were but as
unprofitable weeds, barren of fruits and flowers. She was simple and
dignified in her manners, and had a hearty dislike for every thing
savoring of parade and idle show. She always received her friends and
visitors with a cordial smile of welcome, spreading before them with
an unsparing hand the best her house afforded: but, when they rose to
depart, she would invite them once, and once only, to stay longer;
and, if after this they still seemed bent on going, she would do all
in her power to speed them on their journey. With so many traits
betokening strength of mind and character, she had but one weakness;
and this was her excessive dread of thunder, caused in early
maidenhood by seeing a young lady struck dead at her side by
lightning.

And such was Mary, the mother of Washington; and seldom indeed has her
like been seen. As her husband, by industry and prudent management,
had gathered together enough of the riches of this world to leave each
of his children a fine plantation, she was not hindered by straitened
circumstances, or anxiety as to their means of future support, from
giving her chief attention to such bodily and mental training as
should have a lasting tendency to make them, in more mature years,
healthy, virtuous, and wise.

It has been often remarked, that those men who have most distinguished
themselves in the world's history for noble thoughts and heroic deeds,
have, as a general thing, inherited those qualities of mind and heart
which made them great, from their mothers, rather than from their
fathers; and also that their efforts to improve and elevate the
condition of their fellow-beings have been owing in a larger measure
to the lessons of truth, piety, and industry, taught them by their
mothers in childhood and early youth. If this be the case, then how
much are we indebted for the freedom, prosperity, and happiness we
now enjoy above other nations of the earth, to Mary, the mother of
Washington! Perhaps, to give you a still more forcible idea of the
characters of both mother and son, and of the wholesome effects on him
of her judicious training, I ought to relate in this place the story
of his attempt at taming the sorrel horse.

A fine horse was an object that afforded Mrs. Washington, as it did
the other substantial Virginia ladies of that day, quite as much, if
not more, real pleasure than their more delicate grand-daughters of
the present now find in their handsome carriages, lap-dogs, and
canary-birds. So great was her fondness for this noble animal, that
she usually suffered two or three of her finest to run in a meadow in
front of the house, where she might look at them from time to time as
she sat sewing at her dining-room window. One of these was a young
sorrel horse, of great beauty of form, and fleetness of foot, but of
so wild and vicious a nature, that, for fear of accident, she had
forbidden any one to mount him, although he had already reached his
full height and size.

Now, you must know that a bolder and more skilful rider than George
was not to be found in all the Old Dominion, as Virginia is sometimes
called; and it was this early practice that afterwards won for him the
name of being the finest horseman of his day. Often, as we may very
naturally suppose to have been the case, would he reason thus with
himself, as, sitting on the topmost rail of a worm fence, he watched
the spirited young animal frisking and bounding about the field in all
the freedom of his untamed nature: "If I were but once upon his back,
with a strong bit in his mouth, believe me, I would soon make him a
thing of use as well as ornament; and it would, I am sure, be such a
pleasant surprise to mother to look from her window some fine morning,
and see me mounted on his back, and managing him with ease, and to
know that it was I who had subdued his proud spirit."

Accordingly, full of these thoughts, he arose early one bright summer
morning, and invited two or three friends of his own age, then on a
visit at his mother's house, to go with him to the fields, to share
with him the sport, or lend their aid in carrying out his design,
should it be found too difficult and hazardous for himself alone. They
needed no second bidding, these young madcaps, to whom nothing could
be more to their liking than such wild sport. So at it they went; and
after a deal of chasing and racing, heading and doubling, falling down
and picking themselves up again, and more shouting and laughing than
they had breath to spare for, they at last succeeded in driving the
panting and affrighted young animal into a corner. Here, by some means
or other (it was difficult to tell precisely how), they managed to
bridle him, although at no small risk of a broken head or two from
his heels, that he seemed to fling about him in a dozen different
directions at once. Having thus made him their captive, they led him
out to the more open parts of the field, where George requested his
friends to hold him till he could get on his back. But the wild and
unruly spirit the young beast had shown that morning had so dismayed
them, that they flatly refused to comply; begging him not to think of
attempting it, as it would be at the risk of life or limb. But George
was not to be daunted by such trifles; and seeing that his blood was
up, and knowing that, when this was the case with him, he was not to
be turned aside from his purpose, they at length yielded unwilling
consent to his entreaties; and, giving him the required aid, he was
soon mounted.

This was an insult the proud-spirited animal could not brook; and he
began plunging and rearing in a manner so frightful to behold, that
they who watched the struggle for mastery expected every moment to see
the daring young rider hurled headlong to the ground. But he kept his
seat unmoved and firm as an iron statue on an iron horse. At length,
however, the horse, clinching the bit between his teeth, became for a
time unmanageable, and sped away over the field on the wings of the
wind; till, making a false step, he staggered and plunged, rallied
again, staggered, and, with the red life-stream gushing from his
nostrils, dropped down dead.

George sprang from the ground unharmed: but, when he saw the noble
young animal stretched out smoking and bloody and lifeless before him,
tears of pity filled his eyes; and still faster did they flow when he
thought of the grief it would occasion his mother, when she should
hear how her beautiful favorite had come to his end. His companions
now rejoining him, they all, with sad misgiving in their hearts,
returned to the house, where Mrs. Washington met them with a cheerful
good-morning, and, when they had taken their seats at the
breakfast-table, began talking with them in her usual lively and
entertaining manner, until the dreaded question came: "Well, young
gentlemen," said she, "have you seen any thing of my sorrel horse in
your walks this morning?"

The boys looked at one another for some moments in silence, scarce
knowing what answer to make. At last, George, to put an end to the
painful suspense, said in a subdued voice, "Mother, the sorrel horse
is dead." He then, in a few brief words, told her how it had all
happened, and ended by entreating her forgiveness if he had offended;
at the same time assuring her, that, in so doing, he had only thought
of giving her a pleasant surprise.

When he first began his account of the mishap, a flush of anger rose
to his mother's cheek; of which, however, there was not a trace to be
seen by the time he had finished; and she answered, with something
like an approving smile, "My son, as you have had the courage to come
and tell me the truth at once, I freely forgive you: had you skulked
away, I would have despised you, and been ashamed to own you as my
son."




III.

PLAYING SOLDIER.


After the death of her husband, Mrs. Washington left the care and
education of her son George, in no small measure, to the judgment and
discretion of her step-son Lawrence, a young man of twenty-five, and
lately married to Miss Fairfax. The love that had always existed
between these two brothers was something beautiful indeed to
behold,--the more so when we take into consideration the difference of
fourteen years in their ages; and, now that their dear father was no
more, this love grew all the more tender and strong, and George soon
learned to look up to his eldest brother as to a second father.

Mr. Lawrence Washington, besides being a fine scholar and one of the
most polished gentlemen of his day, was also a brave and able soldier;
having served during the late Spanish war as a lieutenant under the
great Admiral Vernon, in honor of whom he had named his fine estate on
the Potomac, Mount Vernon.

At Mount Vernon, then, we find George spending by far the greater
portion of his holidays; and here he often fell in with young
officers, fellow-soldiers of his brother, to whom with eager ears he
was wont to listen as they recounted their adventures, and told of
hard-fought battles by land and sea with the roving pirates, or
sea-robbers, and proud and vengeful Spaniards. These stories so fired
his ardent young spirit, that he longed of all things to become a
great soldier, that he might go forth to fight the enemies of his
country, wherever they were to be found, and drive them from the face
of the wide earth. To give these feelings some relief, he would muster
his little school-fellows at play-time, and take them through the
lessons of a military drill; showing them how to fire and fall back,
how to advance and retreat, how to form in line of march, how to pitch
their tents for a night's encampment, how to lay an Indian ambuscade,
how to scale a wall, how to storm a battery; and, in short, forty
other evolutions not to be found in any work on military tactics ever
written, and at which old Wooden Leg, had he been there, would have
shaken his cocked hat with a dubious look. Then dividing them into two
opposing armies, with himself at the head of one, and the tallest boy
of the school leading on the other, he would incite them to fight sham
battles with wooden swords, wooden guns, snow-balls, and such other
munitions of war as came most readily to hand; in which George, no
matter what might be the odds against him, or what superior advantages
the enemy might have in weapons or ground, was always sure to come off
victorious.

He was a handsome boy, uncommonly tall, strong, and active for his
age; could out-run, out-jump, out-ride any boy three years older than
himself; and, in wrestling, there was not one in a hundred who could
bring his back to the ground. Many stories are told of his wonderful
strength; and the spot is still shown, where, when a boy, he stood on
the banks of the Rappahannock River, and, at its widest part, threw a
stone to the opposite side,--a feat that no one has been found able to
perform since that day. It was said, that, a few years later, he stood
under the Natural Bridge, and threw a silver dollar upon the top of
it,--a height of two hundred and twenty feet; not less than that of
Bunker-hill Monument, and more than double that of the tallest hickory
that ever hailed down its ripened nuts upon your heads. Although there
were none more studious than he in the schoolroom, yet he always took
the keenest delight in every kind of active and manly sport, and was
the acknowledged leader of the playground. But he had qualities of
mind and heart far more desirable and meritorious than those of mere
bodily activity and strength. Such was his love of truth, his strong
sense of justice, and his clearness of judgment, that, when any
dispute arose between his playmates, they always appealed to him to
decide the difference between them, as willing to abide by his
decision, and make it their law. Although he had the courage of a
young lion, and was even more than a match in strength for many an
older boy, he was never known to have a fight at school, nor elsewhere
indeed, that I have ever heard; for such was the respect he ever
showed to the feelings and wishes of others, that he never gave an
insult, and, depend upon it, never received one.

The high ground of Mount Vernon commands a splendid view of the
Potomac up and down for miles, where it makes a noble bend, and winds
its shining course amidst verdant meadow-<DW72>s and richly wooded
hills. Now and then, in the course of the year, some noble ship, with
all its sails outspread and gay banners fluttering to the breeze,
might be seen moving down the majestic stream, hastening in its pride
and strength to stem the billows of the mighty ocean. With the keenest
of delight none but the young and daring mind can ever know, George,
as he stood on the piazza in front of his brother's mansion, would
watch them with wishful eyes, until a bend of the river hid their
lofty masts behind the green tops of the yet more lofty hills between.
Then would there awaken in his heart an earnest longing to become a
sailor; to go forth in some gallant ship upon the face of the great
deep; to visit those far-off countries, where he might behold with his
own eyes those wonders he had read so much of in books. At such
times, it may be, there would arise in his mind enchanting visions of
some desert island, upon whose lonely rocky shores he might some day
have the rare good fortune of being thrown by the angry billows, there
to dwell, like another Robinson Crusoe, many, many years, with no
other company than talking birds, skipping goats, and dancing cats,
and, if so lucky, a good man Friday, to be rescued by his daring from
the bloody clutches of the terrible cannibals.

Lawrence Washington was not long in discovering the thoughts that were
uppermost in the mind of the adventurous boy; and, like the generous
brother that he was, resolved that, should an opportunity offer, a
wish so natural should be gratified. In a short time after, George
being then about fourteen years of age, a British man-of-war moved up
the Potomac, and cast anchor in full view of Mount Vernon. On board of
this vessel his brother Lawrence procured him a midshipman's warrant,
after having by much persuasion gained the consent of his mother;
which, however, she yielded with much reluctance, and many misgivings
with respect to the profession her son was about to choose. Not
knowing how much pain all this was giving his mother, George was as
near wild with delight as could well be with a boy of a nature so even
and steady. Now, what had all along been but a waking dream was about
to become a wide-awake reality. His preparations were soon made:
already was his trunk packed, and carried on board the ship that was
to bear him so far away from his native land; and nothing now remained
but to bid farewell to the loved ones at home. But when he came and
stood before his mother, dressed in his gay midshipman's uniform, so
tall and robust in figure, so handsome in face, and so noble in look
and gesture, the thought took possession of her mind, that, if she
suffered him to leave her then, she might never see him more; and,
losing her usual firmness and self-control, she burst into tears.

"Deeply do I regret, my dear son," said she, "to disappoint you in a
wish you have so near at heart: but I find I cannot bring myself to
give you up yet; for, young as you are, your aid and counsel have
already become to me of the greatest service and comfort; and these
little fatherless ones, now weeping around you, have learned to look
up to you as their protector and guide. You know too little of the
ways of the world, and are too young and inexperienced, to go forth to
endure its hardships, and battle with its temptations, that lie in
wait on every side to entrap the unwary, and lead them down to
destruction. Without you, our home would be lonely indeed: then, for
your mother's sake, and for the sake of these little ones, give up
your darling scheme, for the present at least, that we may all be
happy at home once more together."

Thus entreated, what could he do but yield consent to the wishes of a
loving and prudent mother, and remain at home? where, in a few days,
his noble self-denial was rewarded with a sweet contentment of mind
that he could never have known had he left the dear ones in sorrow
behind him, and gone forth to spend months and years upon the billows
of the lonely seas. Surely a kind Heaven so ordered that the welfare
and happiness of us Americans, and, it may be, that of the whole
world, should be made to depend upon the promptings of a mother's
love; for had the boy Washington realized this early dream, and gone
forth in that gallant ship, he might have perished in the stormy deep,
and we had never known the name we now love so much to praise and
venerate. Or, by his distinguished abilities, he might have risen to
become in time the Lord High Admiral of the British Navy; and, instead
of being set apart to the salvation of his native land, might have
been made an instrument to its destruction, impossible as such an
event may now appear to us, with our knowledge of the glorious work he
did perform when in the fulness of his strength and years, and
accustomed as we are to behold in him our model of all that is great
and virtuous in mankind.




IV.

"RULES OF BEHAVIOR."


For the five years following his father's death, George made his home
at the house of his half-brother, Augustine Washington, at a
considerable distance from his mother's, where he might have the
benefit of a better school which that neighborhood afforded. His new
schoolmaster was a Mr. Williams, a very worthy man; who, however,
although he knew a vast deal more than Mr. Hobby, the poor old
grave-digger, was far from being what we might call a first-rate
scholar. But what his teacher lacked in learning, George made up in
diligence, and the most judicious use of every means of
self-improvement within his reach. And here, my dear children, let me
remind you of a thing worthy of your remembrance through life, that
success in the pursuit of knowledge depends far less upon the ability
and skill of the teacher, than upon the industry, perseverance, and
willing application of the learner.

Under the instruction of this, his second and last teacher, George got
a little insight into English grammar, read some history, became well
acquainted with geography, completely mastered arithmetic, and made
handsome progress in geometry and trigonometry; which, as you must
know, are higher branches of mathematics than arithmetic, and far more
difficult to comprehend. In connection with the two latter, he studied
surveying; by which is taught, as you must continue to bear in mind
hereafter, the measurement of land.

When he had advanced so far in this study as to give him some idea of
the proper use and handling of the chain and compass, the two
principal instruments employed in this art, he began to put his
knowledge into practice by taking surveys of the farms lying in the
immediate neighborhood of his schoolhouse, and also of the lands
belonging to the estate of Mount Vernon.

Assisted by his schoolmates, he would follow up, and measure off with
the help of his long steel chain, the boundary lines between the
farms, such as fences, roads, and watercourses; then those dividing
the different parts of the same farm; determining at the same time,
with the help of his compass, their various courses, their crooks and
windings, and the angles formed at their points of meeting or
intersection. This would enable him to get at the shape and size not
only of each farm, but of every meadow, field, and wood composing it.
This done, he would make a map or drawing on paper of the land
surveyed, whereon would be clearly traced the lines dividing the
different parts, with the name and number of acres of each attached;
while, on the opposite page, he would write down the long and
difficult tables of figures by which these results had been reached.
All this he would execute with as much neatness and accuracy as if it
had been left with him to decide thereby some gravely disputed
land-claim.

To qualify himself for the management of business affairs upon
reaching the age of manhood, he would copy off into a blank-book every
form or instrument of writing he would meet with; such as deeds,
wills, notes of hand, bills of exchange, receipts, bonds,
land-warrants, &c., &c. And, what was still more remarkable in a boy
of thirteen, he wrote down, under the head of what he called "Rules of
Behavior in Company and Conversation," such wise maxims, and lines of
wholesome advice, as he would pick up from time to time in the course
of his reading or observation, to aid him in forming habits of
industry, politeness, and morality. Some of these rules, your Uncle
Juvinell, with an eye mainly to your well-being, will repeat to you;
for, when but a boy, he got them by heart, well knowing, that, without
some such aid, he would find it hard, if not impossible, to so order
his walks through life as to win and deserve the esteem and confidence
of his fellow-men, as well as the blessing and approbation of his
Maker. And now that he has reached the evening of his days, and is
well assured that the daily observance of these rules has made him a
wiser, a better, and a happier man, he would most earnestly advise all
his friends, great or small, but especially small, be they boys or
girls, to pursue the like course, if they would be favored of Heaven
in the like manner. Here they are:--

     "1. Every action in company ought to be with some sign of
     respect to those present.

     "2. In the presence of others, sing not to yourself with a
     humming noise, nor drum with your fingers or feet.

     "3. Speak not when others speak, sit not when others stand,
     speak not when you should hold your peace, walk not when others
     stop.

     "4. Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking; jog
     not the table or desk on which another reads or writes; lean
     not on any one.

     "5. Be not a flatterer; neither play with any one that delights
     not to be played with.

     "6. Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though
     he were your enemy.

     "7. It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak before
     ourselves, especially if they be above us; with whom in no sort
     ought we to begin.

     "8. Strive not with your superiors in an argument, but always
     submit your judgment to others with modesty.

     "9. Undertake not to teach your equal in the art himself
     professes; for it is immodest and presumptuous.

     "10. When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well,
     blame not him that did it.

     "11. Before you advise or find fault with any one, consider
     whether it ought to be in public or in private, presently or
     at some other time, in what terms to do it; and, in reproving,
     show no signs of anger, but do it with sweetness and mildness.

     "12. Take all advice thankfully, in what time or place soever
     given; but afterwards, not being blamable, take a time or place
     convenient to let him know it that gave it.

     "13. Mock not in jest at any thing of importance: if you
     deliver any thing witty and pleasant, abstain from laughing
     thereat yourself.

     "14. Wherein you reprove another, be unblamable yourself; for
     example is better than precept.

     "15. Use no reproachful language against any one; neither curse
     nor revile.

     "16. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the injury of
     any.

     "17. In your apparel, be modest, and endeavor to accommodate
     yourself to nature, rather than to procure admiration; keep to
     the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly, with
     respect to time and places.

     "18. Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see
     if you be well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your
     pantaloons sit neatly, and clothes handsomely.

     "19. Associate yourself with men of good quality, if you esteem
     your reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad
     company.

     "20. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is
     a sign of a kindly and commendable nature; and, in all causes
     of passion, admit reason to govern.

     "21. Be not immodest in urging a friend to make known a secret.

     "22. Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grave and
     learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects among the
     ignorant, nor things hard to believe.

     "23. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth, nor at the
     table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds;
     and, if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse.
     Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friend.

     "24. Break not a jest, when none take pleasure in mirth; laugh
     not loud, nor at all, without occasion; deride no man's
     misfortune, though there seem to be some cause.

     "25. Speak not injurious words, neither in jest nor earnest;
     scoff at none, although they give occasion.

     "26. Seek not to lessen the merits of others; neither give more
     than due praise.

     "27. Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be
     welcome. Give not advice without being asked; and, when
     desired, do it briefly.

     "28. Reprove not the imperfections of others; for that belongs
     to parents, masters, and superiors.

     "29. Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, and ask not
     how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend,
     deliver not before others.

     "30. Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor
     bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly.

     "31. When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb
     not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not
     nor prompt him without being desired; interrupt him not nor
     answer him until his speech be ended.

     "32. Treat with men at right times about business, and whimper
     not in the company of others.

     "33. Be not in haste to relate news, if you know not the truth
     thereof.

     "34. Be not curious to know the affairs of others; neither
     approach those that speak in private.

     "35. Undertake not what you cannot perform, but be careful to
     keep your promise.

     "36. When your masters or superiors talk to anybody, hearken
     not, nor speak or laugh.

     "37. Speak not evil of the absent; for it is unjust.

     "38. Make no show of taking delight in your victuals; feed not
     with greediness; cut your food with a knife, and lean not on
     the table; neither find fault with what you eat.

     "39. Be not angry at the table, whatever happens; and, if you
     have reason to be so, show it not, but put on a cheerful face,
     especially if there be strangers; for good humor makes of one
     dish a feast.

     "40. If you speak of God or his attributes, let it be
     seriously, in reverence; and honor and obey your parents.

     "41. Let your recreations be manful, not sinful.

     "42. Labor to keep in your breast that little spark of
     celestial fire called conscience."

Now, does it not strike you, my dear children, as being most truly
wonderful that it should have ever entered the mind of a boy of
thirteen to lay down for his own guidance and self-improvement such
rules and principles as these I have just repeated? It certainly must.
And yet when I tell you that he strictly adhered to them through life,
and squared his conduct by them daily, you will, no doubt, think it
quite unreasonable that he could have been other than the good and
great man he was.

These writings I have mentioned filled several quires of paper; and
together with his business papers, letters, journals, and
account-books, written later in life, and with the same neatness and
precision, are still preserved at Mount Vernon with pious care; and
are even now to be seen by those who go on pilgrimages to that sacred
spot, although, since many of them were penned, more than a hundred
years have come and gone.

And thus, my children, you have seen young Washington, at an age when
most boys are wasting their precious hours in idle sports, seeking to
acquire those habits of industry, punctuality, and method, which
afterwards enabled him so to economize time and labor as to do with
ease and expedition what others did with difficulty and tardiness. You
have seen him making the best use of the slender means within his
reach for storing his mind with those treasures of knowledge, and
schooling his heart in the daily practice of those exalted virtues,
which, after a life well spent and work well done, make good his title
to the name he bears,--the greatest and the wisest of human kind.

At last, the day came when George was to leave school for ever; and a
day of sorrow it was to his school-fellows, who parted from him with
many an affectionate wish, and, as we are told, even with tears; so
greatly had he endeared himself to them by his noble disposition,
gentle manners, and earnest desire to do as he would be done by, which
appeared in all his words and actions. In these regrets, Mr. Williams,
his worthy schoolmaster, also shared; and it gave him in after-life,
when his little George had become the great Washington, the most
heartfelt pleasure to say, that it had never been his privilege to
teach another pupil who could at all compare with him for diligence in
application, aptitude in learning, docility of disposition, manly
generosity, courage, and truth.




V.

IN THE WILDERNESS.


Extending from the Rappahannock to the Potomac, and stretching away
beyond the Blue Ridge far into the Alleghany Mountains, there lay at
this time an immense tract of forest land, broken only here and there
by a little clearing, in the midst of which stood the rude log-cabin
of some hardy backwoodsman. This large body of land--the largest,
indeed, ever owned by any one man in Virginia--was the property of a
great English nobleman named Lord Fairfax, an old bachelor of
eccentric habits and strange opinions, but of a highly cultivated
understanding, and, when it so pleased him, of polite and elegant
address. His stature was lofty,--far above that of the common run of
men. He was a keen sportsman, had a fund of whimsical humor, and, in
his odd way, showed himself possessed of a kindly and generous heart;
sometimes making a tenant or poor friend the present of a large farm,
without requiring any thing in return but a haunch of venison or a fat
wild turkey for his next Christmas dinner.

Having heard that settlements were being made in the most fertile
valleys of his wild domain, he had lately come over from the
mother-country to inquire into the matter, and make suitable provision
against any future encroachments of the kind upon his rights. He now
beheld his forest possessions for the first time; and so charmed was
he with the wild beauty of the scenery, and so won over by enticing
visions of fishing and hunting, conjured up by the sight of the waving
woods and running streams, that he resolved to leave his native land
for ever, and take up his abiding-place for the rest of his days amid
those leafy solitudes. Accordingly, he betook himself, with all his
<DW64> servants (numbering one hundred and fifty), and a few white
dependants, to the beautiful Valley of the Shenandoah, lying between
the Blue Ridge and the Alleghany Mountains; where he soon cleared a
large plantation, and built thereon a house, to which he gave the name
of Greenway Court.

From that time forward, this became his fixed abode; but, as he had
more land than a thousand men could put to any good use, he was quite
willing to dispose of all, except what lay for a few miles immediately
around Greenway Court, at reasonable rates, to such honest persons as
were willing to buy it and make it their future home. But, in order
that no misunderstanding might arise hereafter between the parties
concerned with respect to the boundary-line and number of acres
bought and sold, it was necessary, in the first place, to have the
land surveyed, and divided into lots of convenient sizes for farms.

Now, you must know that, old Lord Fairfax was a distant relative of
Mrs. Lawrence Washington, and had, as a natural consequence, often met
our George at Mount Vernon; and so struck was he with the manly
bearing, high character, good sense, and mathematical skill, of the
fair-haired, blue-eyed youth, that he offered him, young as he was,
the place of surveyor of all his vast lands. Being the son of a
widowed mother, and earnestly desirous of aiding her all in his power,
and earning for himself an honest independence, George was but too
happy to accept of the offer; and the necessary arrangements were soon
made. Having provided himself with all things needful for the new
enterprise,--such as a horse, a rifle, a blanket, and a steel chain
and compass,--he set out, at the head of a small party of hunters and
backwoodsmen, upon this his first considerable field of labor, early
in the spring of 1748, just one month from the completion of his
sixteenth year.

They were soon, in the depths of the wilderness, miles beyond the most
distant frontier settlements. The snows of winter that still lingered
on the mountains, warmed by the softer airs of early spring, had
melted so rapidly of late as to swell the forest streams to a degree
that rendered their fording often difficult, and even sometimes
dangerous. Now and then, coming to a stream which had overflowed its
banks, the little party would be obliged to construct a raft of logs,
roughly lashed together with grape-vines, upon which they could push
to the opposite side, without getting their baggage wet, and, at the
same time, compel their horses to swim along behind. Their way was
often obstructed by the trunks and branches of fallen trees, thickets
tangled and dense and thorny, huge and rugged rocks, and treacherous
swamps, covered with long, green grass, into which the horses,
stepping unawares, would suddenly plunge up to the saddle-girths in
water and mire.

For some time, they lodged in wigwams or huts, rudely framed of poles,
and covered with the bark of trees; which served the purpose well
enough when the weather was dry and still, but were often beaten down
and overturned by the winds and rains when their shelter was most
needed. After two or three of these rickety shanties had been tumbled
about their heads, to the no small risk of life or limb, they wisely
concluded to abandon them, and sleep in the open air, with the
twinkling stars above them, the gray old trees around them, and the
damp, cold ground beneath them, with nothing between but their good
blankets, and the dead, dry leaves of autumn heaped together; and
lucky was he who got the place nearest the fire, or could put the
mossy trunk of a fallen tree between him and the biting blast, or,
better still, could boast a bearskin for his bed. A little before
sunset, they would halt for the night in some sheltered spot,
convenient to a running stream; where, turning their horses loose to
graze till morning, they would build a cheerful fire of the dry
brushwood close at hand, and prepare their evening meal, which they
would eat with a keenness of appetite known only to the tired and
hungry hunter. Each man was his own cook; their food consisting
chiefly of venison and wild turkey their rifles procured them, and
fish drawn from the neighboring brook, which they would broil on the
glowing coals, fastened to a forked stick instead of a spit, and then
eat it from a maple chip, instead of a dish. If the season permitted
them to add to this a hatful of berries that grew on the sunny side of
the hill, or acorns from the mountain-oak, or nuts from the
hickory-tree, or, more delicious still, plums, persimmons, and
pawpaws, that grew in the more open parts of the woods, they made of
it a dainty feast indeed.

Now and then, in the course of this rambling life in the wilderness,
they met with roving bands of skin-clad Indians, either as warriors
out upon the war-path against some distant tribe, or as hunters
roaming the forest in quest of game. One evening, late, as our little
party of surveyors were about to encamp for the night, they spied
through the trees the glimmering light of a large fire on the top of a
far-off hill. Curious to know who, besides themselves, could be in
that lonely place, they determined to go thither before stopping; and,
guided by the light, reached ere long the spot, where they found a
small squad of Indian hunters, resting themselves after the fatigues
of the day's chase. They seemed to be in high good humor, as if the
hunt had gone well with them that day; and, being in this mood,
extended a true Indian welcome to the new-comers; setting before them,
with open-handed hospitality, heaps of parched corn, and their
choicest bits of venison, wild turkey, bear's meat, and fish. Supper
ended, the pipe of peace and good-will passed from mouth to mouth, as
a pledge that all should go on well between them; after which the
Indians, for the further entertainment of their white guests, and as a
more marked manner of showing their respect, set about preparing
themselves for a war-dance.

In the first place, they cleared the ground around the fire of chunks
and brushwood, and other obstructions that might hinder the free play
of their feet and legs in the performance. Then the two musicians
began to put in order and tune their instruments: that is to say, one
of them filled a camp-kettle half full of water, over which he tightly
stretched a raw-hide, and, tapping it twice or thrice with a stick,
drew forth a hollow, smothered sound therefrom, by way of giving to
those not in the secret a hint that this was to be their drum; while
the other made a rattle by putting a few bullets or pebbles into a
hard, dry gourd of monstrous size, to the handle of which he fastened
a horse's tail, not so much to improve its tone perhaps, as to give it
a more finished appearance.

These simple preparations soon completed, a tall warrior, grimly
painted as if for battle, advanced a few paces into the circle, and,
squatting upon his haunches, fixed his eyes for several moments with a
hard, stony look upon nothing whatever, till the first tap of the drum
and the first jerk of the rattle, when he suddenly leaped up, with a
deafening yell that made the old woods ring again, and began capering
about in the most astonishing manner, causing such a commotion among
the dry leaves and dead twigs as made it appear that a little
whirlwind had all at once been let loose among them. Another soon
followed, and got up a similar sensation among the dry leaves and dead
twigs on his own private account; while a third, springing into the
circle, did the same; and so on, until at last the whole party were
hot in the dance. Some brandished their scalping-knives, some
flourished their tomahawks, some waved aloft the scalps of their
enemies taken in battle; all yelling the while, and all making
horrible faces. And warmer and warmer they waxed in the dance, and
round and round they went; now up in the air, now down on the ground;
jumping and kicking, yelping and barking, spinning and whirling,
yelling and howling, like a pack of hobgoblins and imps on a spree.
The hollow woods gave back the barbarous din in a thousand
obstreperous echoes; and afar off, from the depths of the lonely
forest glens, might have been heard, had not the attention of the
spectators been otherwise engaged, the answering howl of the hungry
wolves.

After some time spent in this outlandish amusement, without any
previous notice whatever, plump down they sat, and, in a minute, were
smoking their pipes with as much gravity and composure as if they had
just come in from a gentle promenade with their wives and children
along the banks of a smooth and tranquil river. It was a sight, once
seen, never to be forgotten. At first, George and his friends had
looked on with open-eyed amazement; but, before the dance was ended,
the whole scene appeared to them so comical, that they had need of all
their self-control to keep a sober countenance, so as not to give
offence to their savage entertainers.




VI.

THE YOUNG SURVEYOR.


It was a glorious region of stately woods, fertile valleys, clear
running streams, and lofty mountains, where our young surveyor, with
the exception of the winter months, spent the next three years of his
life. At first, not being accustomed to such severe privations and
exposure, it had gone rather hard with him: but he soon became inured
to them; and it was, no doubt, to this rough experience in the
wilderness, that he owed, in large measure, his uncommon vigor and
activity of body, and that firm reliance on the resources of his own
mind, which enabled him to endure and overcome those hardships,
trials, and difficulties which beset him throughout the greater
portion of his after-life. This severe training was also of another
advantage to him, in making him perfectly familiar with all that
region, in whose dark retreats and rugged wilds he learned, a few
years later, his first hard lessons in the art of war.

With all its privations, it was a life he loved to lead; for it
afforded him the means of an independent support: and a happy boy was
he, when first he wrote his mother that he was earning from fifteen
to twenty dollars for every day he worked. Besides this, the beauty
and grandeur of Nature's works, everywhere visible around him,
awakened in him feelings of the truest delight; and he would sometimes
spend the better part of a summer's day in admiring the tall and
stately trees, whose spreading branches were his only shelter from the
dews of heaven, and heat of noonday. At night, after supper, when his
companions would be talking over the adventures of the day just past,
or laughing boisterously at some broad joke repeated for the hundredth
time, or would be joining their voices in the chorus of some rude
woodland song, our young surveyor would be sitting a little apart on
the trunk of a fallen tree, pencil and paper before him, calculating
with a grave countenance, and by the ruddy light of a blazing
pine-knot, the results of the day's labor. With no other companionship
than that of the wild Indians he fell in with from time to time, and
the rude, unlettered hunters around him, he must needs turn for
society to the thoughts that stirred within his own mind. Often would
he withdraw himself from the noisy mirth of his companions, and,
climbing to some lofty mountain-top, spend hours and hours rapt in the
contemplation of the wild and varied region, smiling in life and
beauty far, far beneath him. At such times, we can imagine his
countenance lit up with a sacred joy, and his soul rising in praise
and thanksgiving to the great Father, who, in love and wisdom, made
this glorious world for the good and happiness of all that dwell
therein.

Now and then, for the sake of a refreshing change, he would leave the
wilderness behind him, with all its toils and dangers, and betake him
to Greenway Court, the woodland home of old Lord Fairfax, with whom he
had become a great favorite, and was ever a welcome guest. Here he
would spend a few weeks in the most agreeable manner you can well
imagine; for the old lord, being a man of some learning and extensive
reading, had collected, in the course of a long life, a large library
of the best and rarest books, from which, during these three years,
George derived great pleasure and much valuable information. Besides
this, a keener fox-hunter than this odd old bachelor was not to be
found in all the Old Dominion; and, for the full enjoyment of this
sport, he always kept a pack of hounds of the purest English blood. At
the first peep of dawn, the cheerful notes of the hunter's horn, and
the deep-mouthed baying of the fox-hounds, filling the neighboring
woods with their lively din, would call our young surveyor from his
slumbers to come and join in the sports of the morning. Waiting for no
second summons, he would be up and out in a trice, and mounted by the
side of the merry old lord; when, at a signal wound on the bugle, the
whole party would dash away, pell-mell, helter-skelter, over the hills
and through the woods, up the hills and down them again, across the
brooks and along the winding river; hunters and horses hard on the
heels of the hounds, hounds hard on the heels of poor Renard, and poor
Renard cutting, cutting away for dear life.

During the three years thus employed, George made his home at Mount
Vernon, it being nearer and more convenient to his field of labor;
but, as often as his business would permit, he would go on a visit to
his mother at the old homestead on the Rappahannock, whither, as I
should have told you before now, his father had removed when he was
but three or four years old. These were precious opportunities, ever
improved by him, of extending to her that aid in the management of her
family affairs, which to receive from him was her greatest pleasure,
as well as his truest delight to give.

About this time, he formed a habit of writing down in a diary or
day-book such facts and observations as seemed to him worthy of note,
by which means he would be enabled to fix firmly in his mind whatever
might prove of use to him at a future day. This is a most excellent
habit; and I would earnestly advise all young persons, desirous of
increasing their stock of knowledge, to form it as soon as they begin
the study of grammar and can write a good round hand. The following is
a specimen of this diary, written by him at the age of sixteen, as you
will see by the date therein given:--

     "March 13th, 1748.--Rode to his lordship's (Lord Fairfax's)
     quarter. About four miles higher up the Shenandoah, we went
     through most beautiful groves of sugar-trees, and spent the
     better part of the day in admiring the trees and richness of
     the land.

     "14th.--We sent our baggage to Capt. Hite's, near Fredericktown;
     and went ourselves down the river about sixteen miles (the
     land exceedingly rich all the way, producing abundance of
     grain, hemp, and tobacco), in order to lay off some land on
     Cole's Marsh and Long Marsh.

     "15th.--Worked hard till night, and then returned. After
     supper, we were lighted into a room; and I, not being so good a
     woodsman as the rest, stripped myself very orderly, and went
     into the bed, as they called it; when, to my surprise, I found
     it to be nothing but a little straw matted together, without
     sheet or any thing else, but only one threadbare blanket, with
     double its weight of vermin, I was glad to get up and put on my
     clothes, and lie as my companions did. Had we not been very
     tired, I am sure we should not have slept much that night. I
     made a promise to sleep so no more; choosing rather to sleep in
     the open air, before a fire.

     "18th.--We travelled to Thomas Berwick's on the Potomac, where
     we found the river exceedingly high, by reason of the great
     rains that had fallen among the Alleghanies. They told us it
     would not be fordable for several days; it being now six feet
     higher than usual, and rising. We agreed to stay till Monday.
     We this day called to see the famed Warm Springs. We camped out
     in the field this night.

     "20th.--Finding the river not much abated, we in the evening
     swam our horses over to the Maryland side.

     "21st.--We went over in a canoe, and travelled up the Maryland
     side all day, in a continued rain, to Col. Cresap's, over
     against the mouth of the South Branch, about forty miles from
     the place of starting in the morning, and over the worst road,
     I believe, that ever was trod by man or beast."

In this diary, he also entered such items as these,--the number of
acres of each lot of land surveyed, the quality of the soil, the
growth of plants and trees, the height of the hills, the extent of the
valleys, and the length, breadth, and course of the streams. From the
items thus collected, he would draw the materials for the reports it
was his duty to submit, from time to time, for examination, to his
patron or employer; and such was the clearness, brevity, and exactness
displayed therein, and such the industry, skill, and fidelity with
which he performed his toilsome and difficult task, that the generous
old lord not only rewarded him handsomely for his services, but
continued to cherish for him through life a truly fatherly affection.

In after-years, Washington was wont to turn with peculiar fondness to
this period of his life, as perhaps affording the only leisure he had
ever known for sentimental musings, and the indulgence of what fancy
he may have had in those bright visions of future happiness, fame, or
enterprise; to which all men are more or less given during the
immature years of youth. This, to my mind, is to be easily enough
accounted for, if we but ascribe it to a certain little circumstance;
concerning which, as it exercised no small influence on his mind at
the time, I will now tell you all that is known, and, it may be, more
than ever can be known with possible certainty.

From a letter written by him at the age of fifteen, and also from some
sad and plaintive verses of his own composition found in his
copy-book, we learn that the boy, who should grow to become the
greatest man that ever made this glorious world of ours more glorious
with his wise precepts and virtuous example, was at this time a victim
of the tender passion called _love_, of which most of you little folks
as yet know nothing but the four letters that spell the word.

The object of this early attachment was a damsel, of whom nothing
certain is known, as her name, from the fact of its never being
repeated above a whisper, has not come down to our day, but who was
called by him in his confidential correspondence the Lowland Beauty.
As he had none of that self-assurance which lads of his age are apt to
mistake for pluck or spirit, he never ventured to make known the
secret of this passion to the object thereof; and it is probable, that
we, even at the big end of a hundred years, are wiser as to this
tender passage of his life than was ever the young lady herself. Not
having the courage to declare the sentiments that warmed his breast,
he wisely resolved to banish them from his mind altogether; and this,
I will venture to say, was one reason why he so readily accepted of
old Lord Fairfax's offer, and was willing for so long a time to make
his abiding-place in the wilderness. But it was months, and even
years, before he could get the better of his weakness, if such it
could be justly called; for a wilderness, let me tell you (and I hope
the hint will not be lost on my little friends), is the last place in
the world, that a man, or a boy either, should take to, as the
readiest means of ridding himself of such troublesome feelings. No
wonder, then, that our young surveyor was grave and thoughtful beyond
his years; and that the lonely forest, with its ever-changing beauties
and wild seclusion, viewed through the bewitched eyes of love, should
have had greater charms for him than the noisy, bustling haunts of
men. That you may have a more distinct idea of the appearance of
Washington at the time of which we are speaking, your Uncle Juvinell
will conjure up, from the lingering lights and shadows of his dull old
fancy, a little picture, to be gilded anew by your bright young
fancies, and hung up in that loftiest chamber of your memory which you
are wont to adorn with your portraits of the good and great men and
women who have blessed the earth, and of whom we love so much to read
and hear.

It is a summer morning, and the eastern mountains fling their shadows
long and huge across the lonesome valleys. Our little party of
surveyors, having spent the night on the summits of one of the less
lofty peaks of the Blue Ridge, are slowly descending its shrubby skies
to the more densely wooded parts of the wilderness below, of whose
waste fertility many a broad tract have they yet to explore, and many
a mile of boundary-line have chain and compass yet to measure and
determine. Still lingering on the summit far above, as loath to quit
the contemplation of the splendid prospect seen from thence, stands a
tall youth of eighteen, with his right arm thrown across his horse's
neck, and his left hand grasping his compass-staff. He is clad in a
buckskin hunting-shirt, with leggins and moccasons of the same
material,--the simple garb of a backwoodsman, and one that well
becomes him now, as in perfect keeping with the wildness of the
surrounding scenery; while in his broad leathern belt are stuck his
long hunting-knife and Indian tomahawk. In stature he is much above
most youths of the same age: he is of a handsome and robust form, with
high and strong but smooth features, light-brown hair, large blue
eyes,--not brilliant, but beaming with a clear and steady light, as if
a soul looked through them that knew no taint of vice or
meanness,--and a countenance all glorious with a truth and courage,
modest gentleness, and manly self-reliance; and as he thus lingers on
that lonely mountain-height, glorified as it were with the fresh pure
light of the newly risen sun, with head uncovered and looks reverent,
he seems in holy communion with his Maker, to whom, in the tender,
guileless years of childhood, a pious mother taught him to kneel,
morning and evening, in prayer, thanksgiving, and adoration.

Anon, his morning devotions ended, he turns to take, ere following his
companions down the mountain, another view of the varied panorama
spread out far beneath him, the chief feature of which is a valley,
surpassing in beauty and fertility any that that summer's sun will
shine on ere reaching his golden gateway in the west. Through this
valley, glimmering, half seen, half hid among the waving woods, runs a
river, with many a graceful bend, so beautiful, that, in the far-away
years of the past, some long-forgotten tribe of Indians called it
Shenandoah, or Shining Daughter of the Stars; a name that still
lingers like a sweet echo among the mountains. And as the eyes of the
young surveyor slowly range the wide prospect from point to point, and
take in miles and miles of beauty at a single stretch of view, there
is a look in them as if he would recall some pleasing dream of the
night, which he would now fain bring forth, though but a dream, to
refine and elevate the thoughts wherewith his mind must needs be
occupied throughout the day. He is familiar with every feature of the
landscape before him: he knows each shady dell and sunny hill, and
every grassy <DW72> and winding stream; for there he has made his home
this many a day. He has seen it all a thousand times, and each time
with renewed delight. But now it has a glory not all its own, nor
borrowed from the morning sun, but from the first warm light of
youthful love that burns in his heart for his Lowland Beauty.




VII.

FIRST MILITARY APPOINTMENT.


About this time, the Indians inhabiting that vast region extending
from the Ohio River to the great lakes of the north, secretly
encouraged and aided by the French, began to show signs of hostility,
and threatened the western borders of Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New
York, with all the dismal horrors of their bloody and wasting warfare.
The alarm spread rapidly from the frontier even to the Atlantic coast,
till the whole country was awakened to the sense of the impending
danger.

To put the Province of Virginia in a better posture of defence, the
governor thereof, Robert Dinwiddie, besides other measures, divided it
into four grand military districts. Over each of these he placed what
is called an adjutant-general, whose duty it was to organize and train
the militia, instruct the officers in matters touching the art and
science of war, to review the different companies when on parade, and
to inspect their arms and accoutrements, and see that they were kept
ready for use at a moment's warning.

The energy, fidelity, and soundness of judgment, that young Washington
had lately shown while acting as surveyor, had won for him a name in
the colony; and, becoming known to Governor Dinwiddie, he was
appointed by that gentleman adjutant-general of the Northern district;
receiving along with his commission the rank of major, which entitled
him to the salary of seven hundred and fifty dollars a year. You have
already seen what great delight he took in martial exercises when a
school-boy; and, now that he was to become a soldier in the true sense
of the term, you will not be surprised to learn that this appointment
was altogether agreeable to his present taste and inclinations. To
show his deep sense of the honor done him, and the trust and
confidence reposed in him, he determined to perform his work well and
faithfully as far as in him lay.

The better to qualify himself for the duties of his office, he placed
himself under the instruction of his brother Lawrence, and other
officers living in that part of the province, who had served under
Admiral Vernon during the late Spanish war. These gentlemen, besides
giving him the benefit of their experience and observation, placed in
his hands the best works on military science then in use; from which
he learned the various modes of training militia, the different
manoeuvres of an army on the field of battle, and their management
while on the line of march, together with the most approved plans of
building forts, throwing up intrenchments and redoubts, and the
construction of other works of defence, whether of wood or earth or
stone. At the same time, he also made himself acquainted with the
handling and design of many weapons and engines of war; and under the
instruction of Capt. Van Braam, a Dutch fencing-master, he became very
skilful in the use of the sword. Thus Mount Vernon, from being the
quiet mansion of a country gentleman, was now, in a manner, converted
into a military school; and the youth, who but a few years before, as
he strolled among its verdant retreats, had, in honor of his Lowland
Beauty, made his first and only attempt of putting his thoughts and
feelings in verse, was, at the early age of nineteen, called upon to
discharge those stern duties which men of age and experience alone are
generally thought able to perform. The district allotted to Major
Washington (for so we must now call him) consisted of several large
counties, each of which the duties of his office obliged him to visit
from time to time; and such was the energy and spirit he carried into
his work, and such ability did he display, and such was the manliness
and dignified courtesy with which he deported himself on all
occasions, that he soon completely won the confidence and affections
of both officers and men, who were inspired by his example to still
greater zeal and patriotism in the service of their country.

But these labors, so agreeable to one of his age and ardent spirit,
were now interrupted for several months. His brother Lawrence, who
had always been of a delicate constitution, was now thought to be in
the last stages of consumption, and was advised by his physicians to
betake himself to the West Indies, where he might yet, perhaps, find
some relief in the warmer suns and milder airs of those beautiful
islands. As he would have need of cheerful company and gentle and
careful nursing, he took with him his favorite brother George; and,
embarking from Alexandria, was soon out upon the shining billows of
the deep-blue sea, in quest of that health he was never again to find.
Their place of destination was the charming little Island of
Barbadoes, where, after a somewhat stormy voyage, they arrived in
safety.

While here, Major Washington had an attack of small-pox, which handled
him rather severely; and for some time he was thought to be in a
dangerous condition. But in a few weeks, by dint of careful nursing,
joined to the natural vigor of his constitution, he got the better of
this frightful malady; and, when he was completely restored, not a
disfiguring trace of it remained.

During his sojourn here, he still continued his habit of writing down
in a journal whatever of importance or interest came under his
observation; in which, among other items, we find such as the
following,--the speed of the ship in which they sailed; the direction
of the winds; some account of a storm that overtook them on their
voyage; the cities, ships, forts, and military strength of the Island
of Barbadoes; its products; manners and customs of the people, and the
laws and government under which they lived. By this means,
contributing as it did to habits of close and accurate observation, he
impressed the more strongly upon his memory such facts as might prove
of use to him at a future day.

Our two Virginians, during the three or four months of their stay on
the island, were treated with much courtesy and hospitality by the
inhabitants. But neither the genial climate of the region, nor the
kindly hospitality of the people, was enough to restore that health
and strength to the invalid for which he had come so far and hoped so
long.

Feeling that his end was drawing nigh, Lawrence Washington resolved to
hasten home, that he might have the melancholy satisfaction of
spending his last moments in the midst of his family and friends. He
had scarcely returned to Mount Vernon, and bid a fond farewell to the
loved ones there, when the angel of death summoned him to take another
and a longer voyage, in quest of immortality, to be found in the
islands of the blest, that smile in never-fading beauty on the bosom
of the eternal sea.

Thus, at the early age of thirty-four, died Lawrence Washington, one
of the most amiable and accomplished gentlemen of his day. He left
behind him an affectionate wife, a sweet little daughter, a devoted
brother, and many a loving friend, to mourn his loss. In his will, he
bequeathed his fine estate of Mount Vernon and all else that he
possessed to his brother George; on condition, however, that his wife
should have the use of it during her lifetime, and that his daughter
should die without children to inherit it. The daughter did not reach
the years of maidenhood; and, the mother surviving but a few years,
George was left in the undivided possession of a large and handsome
property; and, in a worldly point of view, his fortune was really
already made. But, for all that, he long and deeply mourned the death
of this much loved and valued brother, who had been to him father and
friend ever since that first great sorrow of his childhood, when he
became a widow's son and a widow's blessing.

And thus, my little children, I have told you the story of this great
and good man's life from his years of infancy up to those of early
manhood. I have dwelt at greater length upon this period of his life
than perhaps any other historian, and have told you some things that
you might look for elsewhere in vain. In my treatment of this part of
the subject, it has been my chief aim and earnest desire to impress
upon your opening minds this one great truth,--that, if you would be
good and wise in your manhood, you must begin, now in early youth, to
put forth all your powers, and use all the means within your reach, to
store your mind with useful knowledge, and direct your thoughts and
actions in the ways of truth and virtue, industry and sobriety. The
boy Washington did all this; and, ere we have done, you shall see the
glorious results of such a good beginning. Be like him in your
youth,--patient and diligent, loving and dutiful, truthful and
prayerful; that you may be like him in the fulness of years,--esteemed
and beloved, happy and good, useful and wise.




VIII.

IMPORTANT EXPLANATIONS.


When Uncle Juvinell had finished this part of his story, he paused,
and with a beaming face looked round upon his little circle of
listeners. Two or three of the youngest had long since fallen asleep;
and Master Ned, having heard the story of the little hatchet, had
stolen quietly away to the cabin, just to see how "black daddy" was
getting along with his sled. Having waited till it was finished, he
had, for his own private amusement, taken it to a nice hillside, and
was now coasting on it all alone by the light of a good-humored,
dish-faced moon. The other children had listened with great interest
and attention to the story, and were still sitting with their eyes
bent earnestly on the fire, whose great bright eye had by this time
grown a little red, and was winking in a slow and sleepy way, as if it
were saying, "Well done, Uncle Juvinell,--very well done indeed. I
have been listening very attentively, and quite approve of all you
have said, especially all that about the wooden-legged schoolmaster,
the little hatchet, the sorrel horse, the Indian war-dance, and the
Lowland Beauty, not to mention those wise maxims and wholesome moral
precepts you brought in so aptly. All of it is very fine and very
good, and just to my liking. But I am thinking it is high bed-time for
these little folks."

Uncle Juvinell was much gratified to see how deeply interested the
children were in what he had been telling them; and in a little while
he called upon them to let him know how they all liked it. Laura said
that it was very nice; Ella, that it was charming; Daniel, that it was
quite as interesting as Plutarch's Lives; Willie, that it was even
more so than "Robinson Crusoe;" and Bryce, that it was very good, but
he would have liked it better had Uncle Juvinell told them more about
the Indians. Just then, Master Charlie awoke from a comfortable nap of
an hour or two, having dropped asleep shortly after the sorrel horse
dropped dead; and, to make believe that he had been as wide awake as a
weasel from the very start, began asking such a string of questions as
seemed likely to have no end. After a droll jumbling of Washington
with Jack the Giant-killer, old Lord Fairfax with Bluebeard, poor old
Hobby, the wooden-legged schoolmaster, with the Roving Red Robber, he
at last so far got the better of his sleepy senses as to know what he
would be driving at; when he said, "Uncle Juvinell, did his father let
him keep his little hatchet after he had cut the cherry-tree?"

"History, my little nephew," replied his uncle with a sober
countenance, "does not inform us whether he did or not; but you may be
quite sure that he did, well knowing that a little boy who would
choose rather to take a whipping than tell a lie, or suffer another to
be punished for an offence he had himself committed, would never be
guilty the second time of doing that wherein he had once been
forbidden."

"What became of black Jerry after he turned a somerset in the snow,
and went rolling over and over down the hill?" Charlie went on.

"Jerry, I am happy to say," replied his uncle, "was so won over by the
kindness and noble self-devotion of his brave little master, that he
made up his mind to mend his ways from that very moment; and in a
short time, from having been the worst, became the best behaved
negroling to be found on either side of the Rappahannock, for more
than a hundred miles up and down."

"What is a negroling?" inquired Master Charlie, as if bent on sifting
this matter to the very bottom.

"A negroling," replied Uncle Juvinell with a smile, "is to a
full-grown <DW64> what a gosling is to a full-grown goose. Now, can you
tell me what it is?"

"A gosling <DW64>, I suppose," was Charlie's answer; and then he asked,
"Did old Hobby go on teaching school after little George left him?"

"Of course he did," answered his uncle; "but, you may depend upon it,
he never took another scholar as far as the single rule of three."
Then, winking slyly at two or three of the older children, he
continued: "This worthy schoolmaster lived to the good old age of
ninety-nine; when, feeling that his earthly pilgrimage was drawing to
a close, he for the last time hung up his big cocked hat on the
accustomed peg, and for the last time unscrewed his wooden, leg, and
set it in its accustomed corner; then, like a good Christian, laid him
down to die in peace, giving thanks to Heaven with his last breath
that it had fallen to his lot to teach the great George Washington his
A B C's and the multiplication-table."

This made Master Charlie look very grave and thoughtful, so that he
asked no more questions for the rest of the night.

Then Daniel, the young historian, who, having his mind occupied with
more weighty matters, had been listening with some impatience while
the above confab was going on, begged that his uncle would tell him
what was meant by a midshipman's warrant.

"In the first place, Dannie," said Uncle Juvinell, "for the benefit of
the rest of the children, who are not so well informed upon such
matters as yourself, we must see what a midshipman is. The lowest
officer in the navy, but still several degrees removed from a common
sailor, is a midshipman, who enters a man-of-war as a kind of pupil
to study the art of navigation, and to acquaint himself with other
matters connected with the seafaring life. A man-of-war, you must
know, is the largest vessel, or ship of war, belonging to a nation;
while all the ships fitted out at the public expense, together with
the officers and seamen concerned in their keeping and management,
make up what is called a navy. By navigation, we are to understand the
art by which sailors are taught to conduct ships from one point to
another. Now, a warrant is a writing that gives some one the right to
do a thing or to enjoy it. Thus you see a midshipman's warrant would
have given young Washington the right to go on board a man-of-war,
where, as a kind of pupil, he would have learned the art of
navigation, the management of ships, and many other things necessary
to make a good sailor. The knowledge thus acquired, and the training
to which he must needs have been subjected, would have fitted him in
time to become an officer of the navy, such as a lieutenant or a
captain, and, it may be, even an admiral."

"And what is an admiral?" inquired Willie.

"An admiral," replied Uncle Juvinell, "is the highest officer of the
navy; he is to the armies of the sea what a general is to the armies
of the land, and commands a squadron, or fleet, which, you must know,
is a large number of armed ships, moving and acting in concert
together."

"Does he fight with a sword?" inquired Bryce, who, it must be borne in
mind, was the military young gentleman, who carried a wooden sword of
his own.

"It is unusual," replied his uncle, "for either an admiral or a
general to fight in person; it being their duty to put their armies in
order of battle, and afterwards, during the fight, to control the
movements of the different regiments or divisions by orders carried by
aides to the officers under their command."

"You told us, uncle," said Willie, "that Washington received, along
with the commission of adjutant-general, the rank of major. Now, what
are we to understand by this?"

"A commission," replied his uncle, "is a writing, giving some one the
right or authority to perform the duties of some office, and receive
the pay and honors arising from the same. The duties of an
adjutant-general you have already seen; and the commission received by
young Washington to perform those duties made him equal in rank, not
to a general, but to a major."

"I know you told us, uncle," said Ella, "what is meant by surveying;
but I don't think that I clearly understand it yet."

"I will refer you to your brother Dannie," said Uncle Juvinell; "for
he is looking very wise, as if somebody knew a thing or two, and
could, were he but called upon, greatly enlighten somebody else. Out
with it, Dannie, and let us have it."

"Surveying teaches the measurement of land," Dannie made haste to
answer; "and a surveyor is one who measures land with the help of a
long chain and compass and other instruments. Now, George Washington,
for example"--

"That will do, Daniel," said his uncle, interrupting him: "you have
made it as clear as daylight already; and I dare say your sister
understands you perfectly, without the help of any example."

"Oh, I like to have forgotten one thing!" cried Willie. "Tell us what
is meant by line of march, manoeuvres on the battle-field, throwing
up intrenchments, and the like."

To these points, Uncle Juvinell made answer: "An army, my nephew, is
said to be on the line of march when it is moving from one place to
another. A manoeuvre is an evolution or a movement of an army,
designed to mislead or deceive an enemy, or in some way to gain the
advantage of him. An intrenchment is a breastwork or wall, with a
trench or ditch running along the outside. The breastwork, being
formed of the earth thrown up from the trench, serves as a protection
against the shots of an enemy. The trench being quite as deep as the
breastwork is high, renders it very difficult and dangerous for the
works to be taken by storm; for the enemy must first descend into the
ditch before he can reach and scale the wall,--an attempt always
attended with the greatest peril to those who make it; for they who
defend the works, fighting on top of the walls, have greatly the
advantage of those beneath. Sometimes intrenchments run in straight or
crooked lines, and sometimes enclose an irregular square or circle;
and any piece of ground, or body of men, thus enclosed or fortified,
is said to be intrenched."

"What a pity it is we can never know the name of the Lowland Beauty!"
remarked Miss Laura regretfully; for she was getting to be quite old
enough to be somewhat interested in matters of this kind.

"The name the young surveyor gave her," said Uncle Juvinell, "lends an
interest to this part of his life, which a knowledge of her true name
might never have awakened. Besides this, my dear niece, if you but be
attentive to what I shall relate hereafter, you will learn many things
touching the life and character of his mother Mary and his wife Martha
far more worthy of your remembrance."

The clock struck ten; the fire burned low, and a heavy lid of ashes
hid its great red eye. And now Uncle Juvinell bethought him that it
must indeed be high bed-time for the little folks; and in conclusion
he said, "Now, my dear children, I want you to bear well in mind what
I have told you to-night, that you may be the better prepared for what
I shall tell you to-morrow evening. And hereafter I would have you
write down on your slates, while I go on with my story, whatever you
may find difficult and shall wish to have more fully explained at the
end of each evening's lesson. And now let us sing our evening hymn,
and part for the night."

With that they joined their voices, as was their wont, in a sweet hymn
of praise and thanks to the great Father of us all,--the little folks
carrying the treble, while Uncle Juvinell managed the bass. This duly
done, they came one by one, and kissed their dear old uncle a loving
good-night; then crept to their happy beds to dream till morning of
wooden-legged schoolmasters, little hatchets, wild rides on fiery
untamed horses that were always sorrel, of life in the lonely
wilderness, rambles without end up and down the mountains, and of
skin-clad Indiana leaping and whirling in the war-dance.




IX.

INDIAN TROUBLES.


And now, said Uncle Juvinell, I see you are all agog, slate and pencil
in hand, ready to jot down any question that may chance to pop into
your busy young brains, to be asked and answered, for our further
enlightenment, at the end of our evening lesson. So, without more ado,
we will begin.

But, before trudging on further in our delightful journey, we must
pause a moment, and turning square round, with our faces towards the
long-ago years of the past, take a bird's-eye view of the early
history of our country, that we may know exactly where we are when we
come to find ourselves in the outskirts of that long and bloody
struggle between the two great nations of England and France, commonly
called the Seven Years' War, and sometimes the Old French War. Now,
although this would not be as entertaining to your lively fancies as
an Arabian tale or an Indian legend, yet you will by and by see very
plainly that we could not have skipped it, without losing the sense of
a great deal that follows; for it was during this war that our
Washington first experienced the trials and hardships of a soldier's
life, and displayed that courage, prudence, and ability, which in the
end proved the salvation and glory of his native country.

In the first place, you must know, my dear children, that this
beautiful land of ours, where now dwell the freest and happiest people
the blessed sun ever shone upon, was, only a few hundred years ago,
all a vast unbroken wilderness; a place where no one but savage
Indians found a home, whose chief amusement was to fight and kill and
scalp each other; and whose chief occupation was to hunt wild beasts
and birds, upon whose flesh they fed, and with whose hairy skins and
horns and claws and feathers they clothed and decked themselves. Where
in the leafy summer-time may now be heard the merry plough-boy
whistling "Yankee Doodle" over the waving corn, the wild Indian once
wrestled with the surly bear, or met his ancient enemy in deadly
fight. Nibbling sheep and grazing cattle now range the grassy hills
and valleys where he was wont to give chase to the timid deer, or lie
in wait for the monstrous buffalo. Huge steamers ply up and down our
mighty rivers where he once paddled his little canoe. Splendid cities
have risen, as if at the rubbing of Aladdin's enchanted lamp, where in
the depths of the forest he once kindled the great council-fire, and
met the neighboring tribes in the Big Talk. The very schoolhouse,
where you little folks are now tripping so lightly along the flowery
path of knowledge, may perhaps stand on the selfsame shady <DW72>,
where, of a long summer evening, he would sit at the door of his
bark-built wigwam, smoking his long pipe, and watching his naked red
children with a more fatherly smile than you can well imagine in one
so fierce, as with many a hoop and yelp they played at "hide-and-seek"
among the gray old trees and pawpaw thickets. On yonder hill-top,
where we at this moment can see the windows of the house of God
shining and glancing in the moonlight, he may have stood, with his
face to the rising or setting sun, in mute worship before the Great
Spirit.

But the stronger and wiser white man came; and, at his terrible
approach, the red man, with all his wild remembrances, passed away,
like an echo in the woods, or the shadow of an April cloud over the
hills and valleys; and the place that once knew him shall know him no
more for ever.

And yet it might have been far otherwise with him and with us, had not
a certain Christopher Columbus chanced to light upon this Western
World of ours, as he came hap-hazard across the wide Atlantic, where
ship had never sailed before, in quest of a shorter passage to Asia.

By this great discovery, it was proved to the entire satisfaction of
all who are in the least interested in the matter, that this earth
upon which we live, instead of being long and flat, with sides and
ends and corners like a great rough slab, was round, and hollow
inside, like an India-rubber ball, and went rolling through empty
space, round and round the sun, year after year, continually.

Of this bold and skilful sailor, the most renowned that ever lived, I
should like to tell you many things; but, as we set out to give our
chief attention to the story of Washington, we must deny ourselves
this pleasure until the holidays of some merry Christmas yet to come,
when your Uncle Juvinell, if he still keeps his memory fresh and
green, will relate to you many wonderful things in the life of this
great voyager, Columbus.

Up to this time, all the nations of Christendom had for ages upon ages
been sunk in a lazy doze of ignorance and superstition. But, when
tidings of the great discovery reached their drowsy ears, they were
roused in a marvellous manner; and many of the richest and most
powerful forthwith determined to secure, each to itself, a portion of
the new-found region, by planting colonies; or, in other words, by
making settlements therein.

For this purpose, they sent out fleets of ships across the Atlantic to
these distant shores, laden with multitudes of men, who brought with
them all manner of tools and implements wherewith to clear away the
forests, till the soil, and build forts and cities, and arms to defend
themselves against the attacks of the war-like savages. Thus, for
example, Spain colonized Mexico; France, Canada; and England, that
strip of the North-American continent, lying between the Alleghany
Mountains and the Atlantic Ocean, now known as the eastern coast of
the United States.

At first, the new-comers were received and treated with much kindness
and hospitality by the natives: but it was not long before they
discovered that they were likely to be robbed of their homes and
hunting-grounds; when rage and jealousy took possession of their
hearts, and from that time forward they never let slip an opportunity
of doing all the mischief in their power to the hated intruders. Then
began that long train of bloody wars between the two races, which have
never ceased except with defeat or ruin of the weaker red man, and
bringing him nearer and nearer to the day when he must either forsake
his savage life, or cease to have an existence altogether.

Now, this may appear very unjust and wrong to my little friends; and,
to some extent, it really was: but, in those days, might made right;
or, in other words, the strong ruled the weak. And yet we are bound to
believe that all this, in the long-run, has worked, and is still
working, to the greatest good of the greatest number: for, had it been
otherwise, all this beautiful land, now the home of a Christian and
happy people, would have remained the dismal wilderness we have
described it; answering no good end, as far as concerns the spread of
truth and knowledge, and the cultivation of those useful arts which
make a nation prosperous in peace, and strong in war.

Notwithstanding their troubles with the Indians, the hardships and
privations to which the first settlers of a wild country are always
exposed, and the shameful neglect with which they were treated by the
mother-countries, the French and English colonies went on growing and
thriving in a way that was wonderful to behold. At the end of a
hundred and fifty years, or thereabouts, they had so grown in strength
and increased in numbers, and had so widened their boundaries, that at
last the continent, vast as it is, seemed too narrow to hold them
both; and they began throwing up their elbows for more room, in a
manner that would have been thought quite uncivil in a private
individual at a dinner table or in a stage-coach.

Whereupon there arose a hot dispute between the kings of France and
England as to whom belonged all that immense region stretching from
the Alleghanies to the Mississippi, in the one direction; and, in the
other, from the Ohio to the Great Lakes of the North.

The French claimed it by the right of discovery: by which they meant,
that a certain Father Marquette had, nearly a hundred years before,
discovered the Mississippi during his wanderings as a missionary
among the Indians of the Far West. They pretended, that, as this pious
man had paddled a little canoe up and down this splendid river a few
hundred miles, his royal master, the King of France, was thereby
entitled to all the lands watered by it, and the ten thousand streams
that empty into it.

The English, on the other hand, claimed it by the right of purchase;
having, as they said, bought it at a fair price of the Six Nations, a
powerful league or union of several Indian tribes inhabiting the
region round about the great lake's Erie and Ontario. What right the
Six Nations had to it, is impossible to say. They claimed it, however,
by the doubtful right of conquest; there being a tradition among them,
that their ancestors, many generations before, had overrun the
country, and subdued its inhabitants.

Now, the poor Indians who occupied the land in question were very
indignant indeed when they heard that they and theirs had been sold to
the white strangers by their red enemies, the Six Nations, whom they
regarded as a flock of meddlesome crows, that were always dipping
their ravenous bills into matters that did not in the least concern
them; and their simple heads were sorely perplexed and puzzled, that
two great kings, dwelling in far-distant countries, thousands of miles
away beyond the mighty ocean, should, in the midst of uncounted
riches, fall to wrangling with each other over a bit of wilderness
land that neither of them had ever set eyes or foot on, and to which
they had no more right than the Grand Caliph of Bagdad, or that
terrible Tartar, Kublah Khan.

"Of all this land," said they, "there is not the black of a man's
thumb-nail that the Six Nations can call their own. It is ours. More
than a thousand moons before the pale-face came over the Big Water in
his white-winged canoes, the Great Spirit gave it to our forefathers;
and they handed it down, to be our inheritance as long as the old
hills tell of their green graves. In its streams have we fished, in
its woods have we hunted, in its sunny places have we built our
wigwams, and in its dark and secret places have we fought and scalped
and burnt our sworn enemies, without let or hinderance, time out of
mind. Now, if the English claim all on this side of the Ohio, and the
French claim all on this side of the Big Lakes, then what they claim
is one and the same country,--the country whereon we dwell. Surely our
white brothers must be dreaming. It is our hearts' desire, that our
brothers, the English, keep on their side of the Ohio, and till the
ground, and grow rich in corn; also that our brothers, the French,
keep on their side of the lakes, and hunt in the woods, and grow rich
in skins and furs. But you must both quit pressing upon us, lest our
ribs be squeezed in and our breath be squeezed out, and we cease to
have a place among men. We hold you both at arm's-length; and whoever
pays good heed to the words we have spoken, by him will we stand, and
with him make common cause against the other."

But to these just complaints of the poor Indian the French and English
gave no more heed than if they who uttered them were so many
whip-poor-wills crying in the woods. So they fell to wrangling in a
more unreasonable manner than ever. Finally, to mend the matter (that
is to say, make things worse), the French, coming up the Mississippi
from the South, and down from the Great Lakes of the North, began
erecting a chain of forts upon the disputed territory, to overawe the
inhabitants thereof, and force the English to keep within the
Alleghanies and the Atlantic. As a matter of course, the English
regarded this as an insult to their dignity, and resolved to chastise
the French for their impudence. And this it was that brought about
that long and bloody struggle, the Old French War.

Thus, my dear children, do great and wise nations, professing to
follow the humane teachings of the man-loving, God-fearing Jesus,
often show no more truth and justice and honesty in their dealings
with one another than if they were as ignorant of the Ten Commandments
as the most benighted heathens, to whom even the name of Moses was
never spoken. Yet, from your looks, I see that you are wondering
within yourselves what all this rigmarole about England, France, the
Six Nations, and disputed territories, can have to do with George
Washington. Had you held a tight rein on your impatience a little
while longer, you would have found out all about it, without the
inconvenience of wondering; and hereafter, my little folks, rest
assured that your Uncle Juvinell never ventures upon any thing without
having all his eyes and wits about him, and that what he may tell you
shall always prove instructive, although it may now and then--with no
fault of his, however--seem to you somewhat dry and tedious.


[Illustration]




X.

"BIG TALK" WITH "WHITE THUNDER."


But we are a little fast. In order to bring ourselves square again
with our story, we must take one step backward, and begin afresh.

When tidings of these trespasses of the French reached the ears of
Robert Dinwiddie, then Governor of Virginia, all his Scotch blood
boiled within him, and he began forthwith casting in his mind what
might be done to check or chastise such audacious proceedings.

Cooling down a little, however, he thought it would be better, before
throwing his stones, to try what virtue might be found in grass. By
which you are to understand, that he determined to write a letter to
the French general, then stationed in a little fort near Lake Erie,
inquiring by what authority these encroachments were made on the
dominions of his royal master, the King of England; and demanding that
they, the French, should abandon their forts, and withdraw their
troops from the disputed territory, without delay, or else abide the
consequences. He was well aware, that, to insure any thing like
success in a mission so difficult and perilous, the person intrusted
with it must needs be robust of body, stout of heart, clear of head;
one inured to the hardships of a backwoods life, well acquainted with
the habits and customs of the Indians, and withal a man of
intelligence, polite address, and the strictest integrity of
character. But one such man was to be found among ten thousand; and
this was George Washington, who answered to the description in every
particular, and was therefore chosen to perform this perilous
undertaking, although he had not yet completed his twenty-second year.

Accordingly, having received from Governor Dinwiddie written
instructions how to act when come into the enemy's country, Major
Washington set out the next morning from Williamsburg, then the
capital of Virginia, and made his way at once to Winchester, at that
time a frontier settlement of the province, lying on the very edge of
the wilderness. Here he spent several days in procuring supplies for
the expedition, and raising a small party of hunters and pioneers to
guard and bear him company. After some delay, he succeeded in
procuring the services of seven men. Four of these were hardy
backwoodsmen of experience, whose business it was to take care of the
baggage and keep the party supplied with game. Mr. Davidson was to go
along as Indian interpreter, and Mr. Gist as guide. A bolder and more
enterprising pioneer than this Gist, by the by, was not to be found
in all the Western wilds; and he is supposed by some historians to
have been the first white man that ever brought down an elk or a
buffalo in that paradise of hunters, green Kentucky. In addition to
these, Washington took with him as French interpreter his old Dutch
fencing-master, Capt. Van Braam. The worthy captain, however, seems to
have been a far more expert master of sword-play than of the
languages; for the jargon he was pleased to call an interpretation was
often such a medley of half-learned English, half-remembered French,
and half-forgotten Dutch, that they who listened would be nearly as
much perplexed to see what he would be driving at, as if he were
sputtering Cherokee into their ears.

All things being at last in readiness, the gallant little party,
headed by our young Virginian, turned their faces towards the great
North-west; and, plunging into the wilderness, were soon beyond all
traces of civilized man. The autumn was far advanced. The travelling
was rendered toilsome, and even dangerous, by the heavy rains of this
season, and early snows that had already fallen on the mountains,
which had changed the little rills into rushing torrents, and the low
bottom-lands into deep and miry swamps. Much delayed by these and the
like hinderances, Washington, upon reaching the banks of the
Monongahela, deemed it best to send two of the backwoodsmen with the
baggage in canoes down this river to its mouth, where, uniting its
waters with those of the Allegheny, it helped to form the great Ohio.
Promising to meet them at this point, he and the rest of the party
pushed thitherward by land on horseback. Reaching the Forks of the
Ohio two days before the canoe-men, he spent the time in exploring the
woods and hills and streams around, and was much struck with the
advantages the place held out as a site for a military post. This,
together with other items meriting attention that happened to him or
occurred to his mind during the expedition, he carefully noted down in
a journal which he kept, to be laid, in the form of a report, before
Gov. Dinwiddie, upon his return. The following year, as a convincing
proof to his countrymen how entirely they might rely on his foresight
and judgment in such matters, French officers of skill and experience
chose this very spot to be the site of Fort Duquesne, afterwards so
famous in the border history of our country. Near the close of the
war, this post fell into the hands of the English, who changed its
name to that of Fort Pitt; which in time gave rise to the busy,
thriving, noisy, dingy, fine young town of Pittsburg, a smoky-looking
picture of which you may see any time you choose to consult your
geography.

Instead of pushing on directly to the Lakes, Major Washington turned a
little aside from his course, and went down the Ohio about twenty
miles, to an Indian village called Logstown. Here, as had been
previously arranged, he met a few sachems or chiefs of some of the
Western tribes, to kindle a council-fire and have a Big Talk. He was
received with much hospitality and courtesy by a stately old chief,
whose Indian name you would not care to hear, as it would give Master
Charlie's nut-crackers the jaw-ache to pronounce it. Among the
English, however, as he was the head of a league or union of several
tribes, he usually went by the name of the Half King. After the pipe
had passed with all due gravity from mouth to mouth, and every
warrior, chief, and white man present had taken a whiff or two, in
sign that all was good-will and peace between them, Washington arose,
and addressed the Half King in a short speech, somewhat after the
following manner:--

"Your brother, the Governor of Virginia, has sent me with a letter to
the big French captain, near Lake Erie. What is written therein deeply
concerns you and your people as well as us. It was his desire,
therefore, that you share with us the toils and dangers of this
expedition, by sending some of your young men along with us, to guide
us through the wilderness where there is no path, and be our safeguard
against the wiles of cunning and evil-minded men we may chance to meet
by the way. This he will look upon as a still further proof of the
love and friendship you bear your brothers, the English. As a pledge
of his faith in all this, and as a token of his love for his red
brother, he sends this belt of wampum."

Mr. Davidson having interpreted this speech, the Half King for some
moments after sat smoking in profound silence, as if turning over in
his mind what he had just heard, or as if waiting, according to Indian
notions of etiquette on such occasions, to assure himself that the
speaker had made an end of his say. He then arose, and spoke to the
following effect:--

"I have heard the words of my young white brother, and they are true.
I have heard the request of my brother the Governor of Virginia, and
it is reasonable. At present, however, my young men are abroad in the
forest, hunting game to provide against the wants of the coming
winter, that our wives and children starve not when we are out upon
the war-path. At the third setting of the sun from this time, they
will be coming in; when I will not only send some of them with my
young white brother, but will myself bear him company. For he must
know that we have ceased to look upon the French as our friends. They
have trespassed upon our soil; they have spoken words of insult and
mockery to our oldest sachems. For this cause have my people resolved
to return them the speech-belt they gave us at the Big Talk we had
last winter at Montreal. It is that I may defy the big French captain
to his teeth, and fling his speech-belt in his face, that I now go
with my young brother, the Long Knife."

On the third day, as had been promised, the young men came in from
hunting; from among whom the Half King chose eight or ten to serve as
an additional escort to Major Washington during the expedition. Among
these was a warrior of great distinction, who went by the tremendous
name of White Thunder, and was keeper of the speech-belt. Now, you
must know, that in Indian politics, when two tribes exchange
speech-belts, it is understood to be an expression of peace and
good-will between them; while to return or throw them away is the same
as a declaration of war, or at least to be taken as a hint that all
friendly intercourse between them is at an end. The "keeper of the
speech-belt" was, therefore, a kind of "secretary of state" among
these simple people.

Thus re-enforced by his red allies, Washington, who had grown somewhat
impatient under this delay, gladly turned his face once more towards
the Great Lakes. All this time, the rain had continued to fall with
scarcely an hour's intermission. The streams and low meadow-lands were
so flooded in consequence, that they were often obliged to wander many
a weary mile over rugged highlands and through tangled forests,
without finding themselves any nearer their journey's end. Now and
then, coming to some muddy, swollen stream, in order to gain the
opposite side without getting their baggage wet, they must needs cross
over on rafts rudely constructed of logs and grape-vines, and make
their horses swim along behind them. It was near the middle of
December, before the little party, jaded and travel-stained, reached
their destination.

Major Washington was received with true soldierly courtesy by the
French general, to whom he at once delivered Gov. Dinwiddie's letter.
A few days being requested for a due consideration of its contents, as
well as the answer to be returned, he spent the time, as he had been
instructed, in gaining all the information he could, without exciting
suspicion, touching the designs of the French in the North-west,--to
what extent they had won over the several Indian tribes to their
interest; the number of troops they had brought into the territory;
and the number, strength, and situation of the forts they had built.
The fort where the French general then had his headquarters stood on
the banks of a little river called French Creek, in which Washington
observed lying, and bade his men count, a large number of canoes, to
be used early in the following spring for transporting men and
military stores down the Ohio. All the hints and items thus gathered
he carefully noted down in his journal, to be laid, as I have told you
already, in the form of a report, before Gov. Dinwiddie, upon his
return.

Being wary and watchful, he was not long in discovering that the
French were tampering with his Indian allies; tempting them, by the
gayest of presents, the fairest of promises, and the hottest of
firewater, to break faith with the English, and join their cause.
These underhand dealings gave Washington much uneasiness of mind; and
he complained to the French general, yet in a firm and dignified
manner, of the unfair advantage thus taken of the besetting weakness
of these poor people.

Of course, the wily old Frenchman denied all knowledge of the matter;
although we are bound to believe, that, as these tricks and intrigues
were going on under his very nose, he must certainly have winked at,
if he did not openly encourage them.

It is true that the Indians were by no means too nice to enrich
themselves with French presents, and get drunk on French whiskey; yet,
for all that, they turned a deaf ear to French promises, and, keeping
their faith unbroken, remained as true as hickory to their friends the
English. Even the Half King, stately and commanding as he was in
council, yielded to the pleasing temptation along with the rest; and,
for the greater part of the time, lay beastly drunk about the fort.
When at last he came to his sober senses, he was not a little
chopfallen upon being somewhat sternly reminded by Major Washington of
the business that had brought him thither, the recollection of which
he had seemingly drowned in his enemy's whiskey. Whereupon, as if to
show that all his threats and promises had been made in good faith, he
went forthwith to the French general, and delivered the grave oration
he had composed for the occasion; at the same time returning the
speech-belt White Thunder had brought, as a sign that all friendly
relations between the French and his people were at an end.

At last, having received the answer to Gov. Dinwiddie's letter, and
looked into matters and things about him as far as he could with
prudence, Major Washington was now anxious to be away from the place
where he had already been detained too long. During his stay, however,
he had been treated with the greatest respect and courtesy by the
accomplished Frenchman, who presented him, upon his departure, with a
large canoe laden with a liberal supply of liquors and provisions,
that lasted him and his men until they reached the Ohio.

To spare the horses as much as possible, Washington had sent them,
with two or three of the men, by land to Venango, a fort about fifteen
miles below; whither he now set out to follow them by water. The
navigation of this little river, owing to its shallows and the masses
of floating ice that here and there blocked up its channel, was
difficult and toilsome in the extreme. Oftentimes, to prevent their
frail canoes from being dashed to pieces against the rocks, would they
be compelled to get out into the cold water for half an hour at a
time, and guide them with their hands down the whirling and rapid
current, and now and then even to carry them and their loads by land
around some foaming cataract to the smoother water below. After an
irksome little voyage, they reached Venango, fully satisfied that to
go further by water was quite out of the question.




XI.

CHRISTMAS IN THE WILDERNESS.


Here, at Venango, Major Washington, much to his regret, was compelled
to part company with the Half King and his other red allies. White
Thunder, keeper of the speech-belt, had been so seriously injured in
their passage down, as to be, for the present, quite unable to travel;
and the rest would not think of leaving him, but needs must tarry
there until their friend should be well enough to be brought in a
canoe down the Alleghany.

Remounting their horses, our little party once more took their weary
way through the wilderness. It was now the 22d of December. The
weather was bitter cold; the snow fell thick and fast, and froze as it
fell; and the bleak winds moaned drearily among the naked trees. The
forest streams were frozen from bank to bank, yet often too thin to
bear the weight of the horses; which rendered their crossing painful
and hazardous indeed. To add to the discomfort of our travellers, the
horses, from poor and scanty fare, had become too weak to be able
longer to carry their allotted burdens. Moved with compassion at their
pitiable plight, Washington dismounted from his fine saddle-horse, and
loaded his with a part of the baggage; choosing rather to toil along
on foot, than to take his ease at the expense of pain even to these
poor brutes. His humane example was promptly followed by the rest of
the party; and only the two men kept the saddle to whom was intrusted
the care of the baggage.

You can well imagine, that a Christmas spent in this wild waste of
leafless woods and snowy hills was any thing but a merry one to these
poor fellows, so far away from their homes, which, at that moment,
they knew to be so bright and cheerful with the mirth and laughter of
"old men and babes, and loving friends, and youths, and maidens gay."
And yet I dare say, that, even there, they greeted each other on that
blessed morning with a brighter smile than usual, and called to their
remembrance, that on that morn a babe was born, who, in the fulness of
years, has grown to be the light and love and glory of the earth.

Seeing that the half-famished beasts were growing weaker and weaker
day by day, and that he would be too long in reaching his journey's
end if he governed his speed by theirs, Washington left Capt. Van
Braam in command of the party, and pushed forward with no other
company than Mr. Gist. Armed with their trusty rifles, and clad in
the light dress of the Indians, with no extra covering for the night
but their watch-coats, and with no other baggage but a small
portmanteau containing their food and Major Washington's important
papers, they now made rapid headway, and soon left their friends far
behind. The next day, they came upon an Indian village called
Murdering Town; a name of evil omen, given it, perhaps, from its
having been the scene of some bloody Indian massacre. What befell them
here, I will tell you, as nearly as I can remember, in Mr. Gist's own
words:--

     "We rose early in the morning, and set out at seven o'clock,
     and got to Murdering Town, on the south-east fork of Beaver
     Creek. Here we met with an Indian whom I thought I had seen at
     Joncaire's, at Venango, when on our journey up to the French
     fort. This fellow called me by my Indian name, and pretended to
     be glad to see me. He asked us several questions; as, how we
     came to travel on foot, when we left Venango, where we parted
     with our horses, and when they would be there. Major Washington
     insisted on travelling by the nearest way to the forks of the
     Alleghany. We asked the Indian if he could go with us, and show
     us the nearest way. The Indian seemed very glad and ready to go
     with us; upon which we set out, and the Indian took the Major's
     pack. We travelled very brisk for eight or ten miles; when the
     Major's feet grew sore, and he very weary, and the Indian
     steered too much north-eastwardly. The Major desired to encamp;
     upon which the Indian asked to carry his gun, but he refused;
     and then the Indian grew churlish, and pressed us to keep on,
     telling us there were Ottawa Indians in those woods, and they
     would scalp us if we lay out; but go to his cabin, and we would
     be safe.

     "I thought very ill of the fellow, but did not care to let the
     Major know I mistrusted him. But he soon mistrusted him as much
     as I did. The Indian said he could hear a gun from his cabin,
     and steered us northwardly. We grew uneasy, and then he said
     two whoops might be heard from his cabin. We went two miles
     further. Then the Major said he would stay at the next water,
     and we desired the Indian to stop at the next water; but,
     before we came to the water, we came to a clear meadow. It was
     very light, and snow was on the ground. The Indian made a stop,
     and turned about. The Major saw him point his gun towards us,
     and he fired. Said the Major,--

     "'Are you shot?'

     "'No,' said I.

     "Upon which the Indian ran forward to a big standing white oak,
     and began loading his gun; but we were soon with him. I would
     have killed him; but the Major would not suffer me. We let him
     charge his gun. We found he put in a ball: then we took care of
     him. Either the Major or I always stood by the guns. We made
     him make a fire for us by a little run, as if we intended to
     sleep there. I said to the Major,--

     "'As you will not have him killed, we must get him away, and
     then we must travel all night.'

     "Upon which I said to the Indian,--

     "'I suppose you were lost, and fired your gun?'

     "He said he knew the way to his cabin: it was but a little
     distance.

     "'Well,' said I, 'do you go home, and, as we are tired, we will
     follow your track in the morning; and here is a cake of bread
     for you, and you must give us meat in the morning.'

     "He was glad to get away. I followed him, and listened until he
     was fairly out of the way; and then we went about half a mile,
     when we made a fire, set our compass, fixed our course, and
     travelled all night. In the morning, we were on the head of
     Piny Creek."

Thus you see, my dear children, from this adventure, upon what slight
accidents sometimes hang the destinies, not only of individuals, but
even of great nations; for had not this treacherous Indian missed his
aim, and that too, in all likelihood, for the first time in a
twelvemonth, it had never been our blessed privilege to know and love
and reverence such a man as Washington; and that, instead of being the
free-born, independent people that he made us, we might have been at
this very moment throwing up our hats and wasting our precious breath
in shouts of "Long life to Queen Victoria!"

All that day they walked on, weary and foot-sore, through the deep
snow, without a trace of living man to enliven their solitary way. The
cold gray of a winter's evening was deepening the shadows of the
forest when they came to the banks of the Alleghany; and here a new
disappointment awaited them. They had all along cheered themselves
with the prospect of crossing this river on the ice: but they found
it frozen for about fifty yards only from either bank; while the rest
of the ice, broken into huge cakes, went floating swiftly down the
main channel, crushing and grinding together, and filling the hollow
woods around with doleful noises.

With heavy hearts they kindled their camp-fire, and cooked and ate
their frugal supper; then, making themselves as comfortable as the
piercing winds would allow, they lay down on their snowy beds to
sleep, hopeful that the morrow would bring them better luck. Morning
dawned, and yet brought with it no brighter prospect. Would you know
what they did in this grievous state? Listen while I read Major
Washington's own account of it, as we find it written in his
journal:--

     "There was no way for getting over but on a raft; which we set
     about, with but one poor hatchet, and finished just after
     sun-setting. This was a whole day's work. We next got it
     launched; then went on board of it, and set off. But, before we
     were half way over, we were jammed in the ice, in such a manner
     that we expected every moment our raft to sink, and ourselves
     to perish. I put out my setting-pole to try and stop the raft,
     that the ice might pass by; when the rapidity of the stream
     threw it with so much violence against the pole, that it jerked
     me out into ten feet of water: but I fortunately saved myself
     by catching hold of one of the raft-logs. Notwithstanding all
     our efforts, we could not get to either shore, but were
     obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our raft, and make
     to it. The cold was so extremely severe, that Mr. Gist had all
     his fingers, and some of his toes, frozen; and the water was
     shut up so hard, that we found no difficulty in getting off the
     island, on the ice, in the morning, and went to Mr. Frazier's."

Here, for a space, they stopped to rest and refresh themselves after
the fatigue and exposure they had just undergone; and here, among
other items of interest, they heard that Queen Aliquippa, an Indian
princess, had been deeply offended that the young Long Knife had
passed by her royal shanty, the month before, without calling to pay
his compliments. Major Washington, well knowing that to humor their
peculiar whims and fancies was the best mode of securing the good-will
and friendship of these people, hastened at once to present himself
before her copper majesty, and make what amends he could for his
breach of etiquette. The present of a bottle of rum (over which, queen
that she was, she smacked her lips), and of his old watch-coat, that
would so handsomely set off her buckskin leggins, softened her ire
completely, and made her, from that time forward, the stanch friend
and ally of the English.

Travelling on a few miles further, they came to Mr. Gist's house, on
the banks of the Monongahela, where Washington bought a horse to bear
him to his journey's end, and parted with his trusty guide. He was now
entirely alone; and a wide stretch of woods and mountains, swamps and
frozen streams, still lay between him and the cheerful homes to whose
comforts he had been so long a stranger. Now and then, the loneliness
of the way would be for a moment enlivened by the sight of some sturdy
backwoodsman, axe or rifle on shoulder, pushing westward, with his
wife and children and dogs and household trumpery, to find a home in
some still more distant part of the wilderness. It was midwinter,
when, after having been absent eleven weeks on his perilous mission,
our young Virginian, looking more like a wild Indian than the civil
and Christian gentleman that he really was, rode into the town of
Williamsburg, nor halted until he had alighted and hitched his horse
in front of the governor's house.




XII.

WASHINGTON'S FIRST BATTLE.


Upon his arrival, Major Washington hastened at once to lay before Gov.
Dinwiddie, and the Virginia Legislature then in session, the French
general's letter, and the journal he had kept during the expedition.

In his letter, the French general spoke in high and flattering terms
of the character and talents of young Washington; but, in language
most decided and unmistakable, refused to withdraw his troops from the
disputed territory, or cease building forts therein, as had been
demanded of him, unless so ordered by his royal master, the King of
France, to whose wishes only he owed respect and obedience. From the
tenor of this letter, it was plainly enough to be seen (what might, in
fact, have been seen before), that the French were not in the least
inclined to give up, at the mere asking, all that they had been at so
much pains and expense at gaining. It therefore followed, that as the
title to this bit of forest land could not be written with the pen, on
fair paper, in letters of Christian ink, it must needs be written with
the sword, on the fair earth, in letters of Christian blood. By this,
the little folks are to understand their Uncle Juvinell to mean that
war alone could settle the question between them. And this
unreasonable behavior, on the part of two great nations, has already,
I doubt not, brought to your minds the story of two huge giants, who,
chancing to meet one night, fell into a long and stormy dispute with
each other about the possession of a fair bit of meadow-land they had
happened to spy out at the same moment, where it lay in the lower horn
of the moon; and who finally, like the silly monsters that they were,
began belaboring each other with their heavy malls, as if the last
hope of beating a little reason in were to beat a few brains out.

To drive and keep back the French and their Indian allies, Gov.
Dinwiddie made a call on the Virginia militia, and wrote to the
governors of some of the neighboring provinces, urging them, for their
common defence, to do the same. To strengthen their borders, and give
security to their frontier settlers, a small party of pioneers and
carpenters were sent to build a fort at the Forks of the Ohio, as
Washington had recommended in his journal. This journal, by the way,
throwing, as it did, so much new light on the designs of the French in
America, was thought worthy of publication, not only throughout the
Colonies, but also in the mother-country. The good sense, skill,
address, and courage shown by the young Virginian throughout the late
expedition, had drawn upon him the eyes of his countrymen; and, from
that time forward, he became the hope and promise of his native land.
As a proof of this high regard, he was offered the command of the
regiment to be raised: which, however, he refused to accept; for his
modesty told him that he was too young and inexperienced to be
intrusted with a matter of such moment to his country. To Col. Fry, an
officer of some note in the province, the command of the regiment was
therefore given; under whom he was quite willing to accept the post of
lieutenant-colonel.

Notwithstanding the pressing danger that threatened all alike, the
people were shamefully slow in answering the summons to arms.
Washington had felt confident, that, at the very first tap of the
drum, squads upon squads of active, sturdy, well-fed, well-clothed
young farmers, moved by the same spirit with himself, would come
flocking to his standard with their trusty rifles, powder-horns, and
hunting-pouches, ready and eager to do their country service. Instead
of this, however, there gathered, about him a rabble of ragamuffins
and worthless fellows, who had spent their lives in tramping up and
down the country, without settled homes or occupations.

Some were without hats and shoes; some had coats, and no shirts; some
had shirts, and no coats; and all were without arms, or any keen
desire to use them if they had them. All this disgusted and
disheartened our youthful colonel not a little; for he was young, and
had yet to learn that it is of just such stuff that the beginnings of
armies are always made. The slender pay of a soldier was not enough to
tempt the thriving yeomanry to leave their rich acres and snug
firesides to undergo the hardships and dangers of a camp life; as if,
by failing to answer their country's call, and fighting in its
defence, they were not running a still greater risk of losing all they
had.

To encourage the young men of the province to come forward, Gov.
Dinwiddie caused it to be proclaimed, that two hundred thousand acres
of the very best land on the head-waters of the Ohio should be divided
between those that should enlist and serve during the war. This
splendid offer had, in some small measure, the effect desired; so
that, in a short time, something like an army was cobbled together,
with which, poor and scantily provided as it was, they at last
resolved to take the field.

Col. Washington, in command of the main body, was ordered to go on in
advance, and cut a military road through the wilderness, in the
direction of the new fort at the Forks of the Ohio, by way of the
Monongahela; while Col. Fry was to remain behind with the rest of the
troops, to bring up the cannon and heavy stores when the road should
be opened. When the pioneers had cut their way about twenty miles
beyond the frontier town of Winchester, there came a rumor, that the
men who had been sent to build the fort at the Forks of the Ohio had
all been surprised and captured by the French. In a few days, all
doubts as to the truth of this report were set at rest by the men
themselves, who came walking leisurely into camp, with their spades
and axes on their shoulders, to every appearance quite well and
comfortable.

For several days, they said, they had been working away on the fort
quite merrily; when, early one morning, they were much surprised to
see one thousand Frenchmen, in sixty bateaux, or boats, and three
hundred canoes, with six pieces of cannon, dropping quietly down the
Alleghany. The leader of this gallant little force summoned the fort
to surrender in the short space of an hour, or else they would find
their unfinished timber-work tumbling about their heads in a way that
would not be altogether agreeable. No one with even half his wits
about him would have for a moment thought of defending an unfinished
fort with axes, spades, and augers, against a force of twenty times
their number, backed by cannon and grape-shot. These men had all their
wits about them, and, to prove it, gave up the fort without further
parley; when the French captain marched in, and took formal possession
of the wooden pen in the name of his most Christian majesty, the King
of France; after which, with that gayety and good-humor so often to
be observed among the French people, he invited the young ensign--who,
in the absence of the captain, had been left in the command of the
fort for that day--to dine and drink a glass of wine with him. He then
suffered them all to depart in peace with his good wishes, and with
their spades, carpenter's tools, and axes on their shoulders.

Col. Washington was deeply mortified at this intelligence; but, like
the manly man that he was, he put a bright face on the matter, and, to
keep up the spirits of his men, resolved to push on with the road with
more vigor than ever. And a tremendous undertaking this was, I assure
you. The tallest of trees were to be felled, the hugest of rocks to be
split and removed, the deepest of swamps to be filled, and the
swiftest of mountain torrents bridged over. With such hinderances, you
will not wonder that they made but four miles a day. Now and then, the
soldiers would be obliged to put their shoulders to the wheel, and
help the poor half-famished horses with their heavy wagons up some
rough and rocky steep. Thus over the gloomy mountains, and down the
rugged defiles, and through a dark and lonely valley since called the
Shades of Death, they forced their toilsome way. At last, after many
weary days, they reached the banks of the Youghiogeny,--a romantic
little river that went tumbling down the green hills in many a foaming
waterfall; then, like a frolicsome school-boy nearing school, put on
a demure and sober face, and quietly emptied itself into the more
tranquil Monongahela. Here, to give his worn-out men and horses some
repose after their severe and unceasing labors, Washington ordered a
halt.

Being told by some friendly Indians that the baggage could be carried
down this stream by water, he set out early one morning in a canoe,
with four or five white men, and an Indian for a guide, to see for
himself what truth there might be in this report. When they had rowed
about ten miles, their Indian guide, after sulking for a little while,
laid his oar across the canoe, and refused to go further. At first,
this behavior appeared to them a little queer; but they were not long
in discovering that it was only a way the cunning red rascal had of
higgling to get more pay for his services. After some pretty sharp
bargaining, Col. Washington promised to give him his old watch-coat
and a ruffled shirt if he would go on; upon which, without more ado,
he picked up his oar, and for the rest of the trip steered away
blithely enough. You can well imagine what an uncommon swell this
savage dandy, with his bare red legs, must have cut, a few days after,
in his civilized finery, among the copper-cheeked belles of the woods.
By the time they had rowed twenty miles further, Washington was
satisfied, that, owing to the rocks and rapids, a passage down this
river in the shallow canoes of the Indians was next to impossible.

Returning to camp, he soon afterwards received word from his old
friend and ally, the Half King, that a party of French had been seen
coming from the direction of Fort Duquesne, who were in all
likelihood, by that time, somewhere in his close neighborhood. Upon
hearing this, Washington deemed it prudent to fall back a few miles to
the Great Meadows, a beautiful little plain, situated in the midst of
woods and hills, and divided by a rivulet. Here he threw up strong
intrenchments, cleared away the undergrowth, and prepared what he
called "a charming field for an encounter." Shortly after, Mr. Gist,
whom you well remember, came into camp, from his home on the
Monongahela, with the tidings, that a party of French had been at his
house on the day before, whom, from their appearance, he believed to
be spies. Washington sent out some of his men on wagon-horses to beat
the woods; who came in about dusk, without having, however, discovered
any traces of the enemy. About nine o'clock that same night, an Indian
runner came from the Half King with word, that some of his hunters had
late that evening seen the tracks of two Frenchmen not five miles
distant; and that, if Col. Washington would join him with some of his
men, they would set out early in the morning in quest of the lurking
foe.

Taking with him about forty men, and leaving the rest to guard the
intrenchments, Washington set out forthwith for the Indian camp. Their
way led them through tall and thick woods, that were then in the full
leaf of early summer. As if to deepen their gloom, the sky was
overcast with the blackest of clouds, from which the rain poured down
in torrents; and the night, of course, was as dark as dark could be.
No wonder, then, that they were continually losing their path, which
was but a deer-track, and none of the plainest, even in broad
daylight. When any one discovered that he had lost himself, he would
shout, and set himself right again by the answering shouts of his
comrades who might be so lucky as to be in the path at that moment.
After blundering about all night through marshy thickets, slipping
upon slimy rocks, and scrambling over the oozy trunks of fallen trees,
they reached the Indian camp at daybreak in a somewhat moist and
bedabbled plight, as you may well imagine. The Half King seemed
overjoyed at seeing his young white brother once more; and, with true
Indian hospitality, set before him and his men the best his camp
afforded. After breakfasting heartily on bear's meat, venison, and
parched corn, they all set out together, much refreshed, to seek what
game might be in the wind. The Half King led the way to the spot where
the two tracks had been seen the evening before; and, having found
them, told two of his sharp-eyed hunters to follow the trail until
they could bring some tidings of the feet that had made them. Like
hounds on the scent of a fox, they started off at a long trot; only
pausing now and then to look more closely at the leaves, to make sure
they were right, and not on a cold scent. In a short time, they came
back with word that they had spied twenty-five or thirty French and
Canadians encamped in a low, narrow bottom, between high and steep
hills, who looked as if they were desirous of concealment. Whereupon
Washington proposed that the two parties should divide, and, stealing
upon the enemy from opposite directions, surprise and capture him, if
possible, without the shedding of blood. To this the Half King agreed;
and, parting, they moved off in profound silence, each on their
separate way.

A sudden turn of the hollow, down which they had been making their way
for several minutes, brought Washington and his party, ere they were
well aware, in full view of the enemy. Some were cooking their
morning's meal, some were preparing their arms for the day's
excursion, some were lounging, and all were merry. But, seeing as soon
as seen, they ran with all speed to their guns, that were leaned
against the trees hard by, and, without more ado, began firing in so
brisk and earnest a manner, that left the Virginians no choice but to
return it, which they did with spirit. About the same time, the Half
King and his warriors came down to the bottom of the hill on the
opposite side of the hollow, and, screening themselves behind a bit of
rising ground, joined the music of their rifles with the rest. For
about fifteen minutes, the skirmish was kept up with great spirit on
both sides; when the French, having lost ten of their number (among
whom was their leader, Capt. de Jumonville), surrendered, and yielded
up their arms. Washington had one man shot dead at his side, and three
men wounded; but his Indian allies, protected as they were by the
rising ground, came off without the loss of a single feather or
porcupine-quill. Unluckily, in the heat of the encounter, a
swift-footed Canadian, better, no doubt, at dodging than shooting,
managed to make his escape, and carried the news to Fort Duquesne.

The Half King and his warriors, I am sorry to tell you, would have
butchered the prisoners in cold blood, had not Washington sternly
forbidden them. They therefore consoled themselves as best they might
for this disappointment by scalping the dead; which, however, yielded
them but sorry comfort, as there were but ten scalps to be divided
among forty warriors.

The Half King was much offended by this humane interference, on the
part of his young white brother, in behalf of the prisoners; for he
seemed to think, that as they were spies, and French spies at that,
they richly deserved to be scalped alive. Such milk-and-water,
half-way measures might do for pale-faces, but were not the sort of
entertainment to be relished by a genuine Indian brave of the first
water, or, to speak more to the point, of the first blood.

Without, however, in the least heeding these muttered grumblings of
the worthy old chief, who had his failings along with the rest of
mankind, Col. Washington took the prisoners to his camp, where he
treated them with even more kindness and courtesy than they as spies
deserved. From thence he sent them under a strong guard to
Williamsburg, and wrote to Gov. Dinwiddie, begging him to treat them
with all the humanity due to prisoners of war, but to keep a strict
watch over them, as there were among them two or three very cunning
and dangerous men.

This encounter, commonly called the Jumonville affair, caused a great
sensation, not only throughout the Colonies, but also in France and
England; for it was there, as you must know, in that remote and
obscure little valley, that flowed the first blood of this long and
eventful war. It was Washington's first battle; and, being a
successful one, much inspirited him. In a letter written at this time
to his brother Augustine, after touching upon the particulars of this
skirmish, he says, "I heard the bullets whistle; and, believe me,
there is something charming in the sound."




XIII.

FORT NECESSITY.


About this time, Col. Fry died at Wills's Creek, where he had lain ill
of a fever for several weeks; and Washington, as the next in rank, was
obliged to take command of the regiment. Although this change brought
with it an increase of pay and honors, yet it caused him the sincerest
regret; for even then, young as he was, he had the good of his country
more earnestly at heart than his own private advantage. He said, and
with unfeigned modesty, that he feared he was scarcely equal to the
discharge of such high and responsible duties, without the aid and
counsel of some older and more experienced officer.

Capt. de Villiers was now commander of the French at Fort Duquesne.
When tidings of the late encounter reached this officer through the
swift-footed Canadian, he swore a deep oath that he would chastise the
audacious young Virginian for what he chose to call this barbarous
outrage, and avenge the death of De Jumonville, whose brother-in-law,
as ill luck would have it, he chanced to be. Foreseeing his danger,
and to defend himself against the superior force he knew would be
brought against him, Col. Washington set about forthwith to strengthen
his works. He dug the ditches deeper, raised the breastworks higher,
and surrounded the whole with a row of palisades, firmly planted in
the ground, and set so close together as scarcely to allow of a
gun-barrel passing between them.

Owing to the shameful neglect of those whose duty it was to send up
supplies, he and his men suffered much from the want of food,--many
days at a stretch sometimes passing by without their tasting bread. To
aggravate this new distress, the Half King and many of his warriors,
with their wives and children, now sought refuge in the fort from the
vengeance of the French and their savage allies; which added nothing
to their strength, and only increased the number of hungry mouths to
be fed. To this place, then, where gaunt famine pinched them from
within and watchful enemies beset them from without, Washington gave
the fitting name of Fort Necessity. Luckily for them, while in this
pitiable plight, days and days passed by, and still no avenging De
Villiers showed himself, though alarms were frequent.

Col. Washington now ordered Major Muse to bring up the rest of the
troops that had been waiting all this while at Wills's Creek, with the
heavy stores and cannon. To reward the friendly Indians for their
services and fidelity, Major Muse brought with him presents of
hatchets and knives, guns, powder and lead, tin cups, needles and
pins, beads, and dry-goods of every gaudy hue, and it may be, although
we can only guess it, a ruffled shirt or two. In addition to these,
there came a number of silver medals for the chief sachems, sent by
Gov. Dinwiddie at the suggestion of Col. Washington, who well knew how
much these simple people prize little compliments of this kind. Major
Muse handed out the presents, while Washington hung the medals about
the necks of the sachems, which yielded them far more delight, you
will be sorry to hear, than their good old missionary's catechism.
This was done with all that show and parade so dear to an Indian's
heart; and, to give a still finer edge to the present occasion, they
christened each other all over again: that is to say, the red men gave
the white men Indian names, and the white men gave the red men English
names. Thus, for example, Washington gave the Half King the name of
Dinwiddie, which pleased him greatly; while he, in his turn, bestowed
on his young white brother a long, high-sounding Indian name, that you
could pronounce as readily spelt backwards as forwards. Fairfax was
the name given a young sachem, the son of Queen Aliquippa, whose
eternal friendship to the English, it must be borne in mind, had been
secured by Washington, the previous winter, by the present of an old
coat and a bottle of rum.

By the advice of his old and much-esteemed friend, Col. William
Fairfax, Washington had divine worship in the fort daily, in which he
led; and, thanks to the early teachings of his pious mother, he could
do this, and sin not. Solemn indeed, my dear children, and beautiful
to behold, must have been that picture,--that little fort, so far away
in the heart of the lonely wilderness, with its motley throng of
painted Indians and leather-clad backwoodsmen gathered round their
young commander, as, morning and evening, he kneeled in prayer before
the Giver of all good, beseeching aid and protection, and giving
thanks.

As if to put his manhood and patience to a still severer test, there
came to the fort about this time an independent company of one hundred
North Carolinians, headed by one Capt. Mackay, who refused to serve
under him as his superior officer. As his reason for this conduct,
Mackay argued that he held a royal commission (that is to say, had
been made a captain by the King of England), which made him equal in
rank, if not superior, to Washington, who held only a provincial
commission, or had been made a colonel by the Governor of Virginia.
This, in part, was but too true; and it had been a source of
dissatisfaction to Washington, that the rank and services of colonial
officers should be held at a cheaper rate than the same were valued at
in the royal army. It wounded his honest, manly pride, and offended
his high sense of justice; and he had already resolved in his own mind
to quit such inglorious service, as soon as he could do so without
injury to the present campaign, or loss of honor to himself. To most
men, the lofty airs and pretensions of Capt. Mackay and his
Independents would have been unbearable; but he kept his temper
unruffled, and, with a prudence beyond his years, forbore to do or say
any thing that would lead to an angry outbreak between them; and as
they chose to encamp outside the fort, and have separate guards, he
deemed it wisest not to trouble himself about them, only so far as
might concern their common safety.

Days, and even weeks, had now passed away, and still no enemy had come
to offer him battle. His men were becoming restless from inaction; and
the example of the troublesome Independents had already begun to stir
up discontent among them, which threatened, if not checked in season,
to end in downright insubordination. As the surest remedy for these
evils, Washington resolved to push forward with the road in the
direction of Fort Duquesne, and carry the war into the enemy's own
country. Requesting Capt. Mackay to guard the fort during his absence,
he set out with his entire force of three hundred men, and again began
the toilsome work of cutting a road through the wilderness. The
difficulties they had now to overcome were even greater than those
which beset them at the outset of their pioneering. The mountains
were higher, the swamps deeper, the rocks more massive, the trees
taller and more numerous, the torrents more rapid, the days more hot
and sultry, and the men and horses more enfeebled by poor and scanty
food. You will not wonder, then, that they were nearly two weeks in
reaching Mr. Gist's plantation on the Monongahela, a distance of but
fifteen miles.

But hardly had they pitched their tents, and thrown themselves on the
grass to snatch a little rest, when there came the disheartening
intelligence, brought in by their Indian spies, that Capt. de Villiers
had been seen to sally from Fort Duquesne but a few hours before, at
the head of a force of five hundred French and four hundred Indians,
and must by that time be within a few miles of the Virginia camp. For
three hundred weary and hungry men to wait and give battle to a force
three times their number, fresh and well fed, was a thing too absurd
to be thought of for a single moment. Washington, therefore, as their
only chance of safety, ordered a hasty retreat, hoping that they might
be able to reach the settlements on Wills's Creek before the enemy
could overtake him. The retreat, however, was any thing but a hasty
one; for the poor half-famished horses were at last no longer able to
drag the heavy cannon and carry the heavy baggage. Moved with pity for
the lean and tottering beasts, Washington dismounted from his fine
charger, and gave him for a pack-horse; which humane example was
promptly followed by his officers. Yet even this was not enough: so,
while some of the jaded men loaded their backs with the baggage, the
rest, as jaded, dragged the artillery along the stony roads with
ropes, rather than that it should be left behind to fall into the
hands of the enemy. For this good service, rendered so willingly in
that hour of sore distress, they went not unrewarded by their generous
young commander.

Capt. Mackay and his company of Independents had, at Washington's
request, come up a little while before, and now joined in the retreat.
But they joined in nothing else; for, pluming themselves upon their
greater respectability as soldiers of his Britannic majesty, they lent
not a helping hand in this hour of pressing need, although the danger
that lurked behind threatened all alike. They marched along, these
coxcombs, daintily picking their way over the smoothest roads, and too
genteel to be burdened with any thing but their clean muskets and tidy
knapsacks. This ill-timed and insolent behavior served only to
aggravate the trials of the other poor fellows all the more; and when,
at last, they had managed to drag the cannon and the wagons and
themselves to Fort Necessity, they were so overcome with fatigue and
hunger, and so moved with indignation at the conduct of the
Independents, that they threw down their ropes and packs, and flatly
refused to be marched further. Seeing their pitiful plight, and that
it would be impossible to reach the settlements, Col. Washington, as
their last chance of safety, turned aside, and once more took shelter
in his little fort.

As Capt. Mackay and his company of gentlemen fighters had done nothing
towards strengthening the works during his absence, Washington ordered
a few trees to be felled in the woods hard by, as a still further
barrier to the approach of the enemy. Just as the last tree went
crashing down, the French and their Indian allies, nine hundred
strong, came in sight, and opened a scattering fire upon the fort, but
from so great a distance as made it little more than an idle waste of
powder and lead. Suspecting this to be but a feint of the crafty foe
to decoy them into an ambuscade, Washington ordered his men to keep
within the shelter of the fort, there to lie close, and only to shoot
when they could plainly see where their bullets were to be sent.

A light skirmishing was kept up all day, and until a late hour in the
night; the Indians keeping the while within the shelter of the woods,
which at no point came within sixty yards of the palisades. Whenever
an Indian scalp-lock or a French cap showed itself from among the
trees or bushes, it that instant became the mark of a dozen
sharpshooters watching at the rifle-holes of the fort. All that day,
and all the night too, the rain poured down from one black cloud, as
only a summer ruin can pour, till the ditches were filled with water,
and the breastworks nothing but a bank of miry clay; till the men were
drenched to the skin, and the guns of many so dampened as to be unfit
for use.

About nine o'clock that night, the firing ceased; and shortly after a
voice was heard, a little distance beyond the palisades, calling upon
the garrison, in the name of Capt. de Villiers, to surrender.
Suspecting this to be but a pretext for getting a spy into the fort,
Col. Washington refused to admit the bearer of the summons. Capt. de
Villiers then requested that an officer be sent to his quarters to
parley; giving his word of honor that no mischief should befall him,
or unfair advantage be taken of it. Whereupon, Capt. Van Braam, the
old Dutch fencing-master, being the only French interpreter
conveniently at hand, was employed to go and bring in the terms of
surrender. He soon came back; but the terms were too dishonorable for
any true soldier to think of accepting. He was sent again, but with no
better result. The third time, Capt. de Villiers sent written articles
of capitulation; which, being in his own language, must needs be first
translated before an answer could be returned. By the flickering light
of one poor candle, which could hardly be kept burning for the pouring
rain, the Dutch captain read the terms he had brought, while the rest
stood round him, gathering what sense they could from the confused
jumbling of bad French, and worse English he was pleased to call a
translation. After this, there followed a little more parleying
between the hostile leaders; when it was at last settled that the
prisoners taken in the Jumonville affair should be set at liberty;
that the English should build no forts upon the disputed territories
within a twelvemonth to come; and that the garrison, after destroying
the artillery and military stores, should be allowed to march out with
all the honors of war, and pursue their way to the settlements,
unmolested either by the French or their Indian allies. When we take
into account the more than double strength of the enemy, the starving
condition of the garrison (still further weakened as it was by the
loss of twelve men killed and forty-three wounded), and the slender
hope of speedy succor from the settlements, these terms must be
regarded as highly honorable to Col. Washington; and still more so
when we add to this the fact, that the Half King and his other Indian
allies had deserted him at the first approach of danger, under the
pretext of finding some safer retreat for their wives and children.
Whether they failed from choice, or hinderance to return, and take
part in the action, can never now be known with certainty.

Thus the dreary night wore away; and, when the dreary morning dawned,
they destroyed the artillery and the military stores, preparatory to
their setting forth on their retreat. As all the horses had been
killed or lost the day before, they had no means of removing their
heavy baggage: they therefore secured it as best they might, hoping to
be able to send back for it from the settlements. Still in possession
of their small-arms, they then marched out of the fort with all the
honors of war,--fifes playing, drums beating, and colors flying. They
had gone but a few yards from the fort, when a large body of Indians
pounced with plundering hands upon the baggage. Seeing that the French
could not or would not keep them back, Washington, to disappoint them
of their booty, ordered his men to set fire to it, and destroy all
they could not bring away upon their backs.

This done, they once more took up their line of march; and a
melancholy march it was. Between them and the nearest settlements,
there lay seventy miles of steep and rugged mountain-roads, over which
they must drag their weary and aching limbs before they could hope to
find a little rest. Washington did all that a kind and thoughtful
commander could to keep up the flagging spirits of his men; sharing
with them their every toil and privation, and all the while
maintaining a firm and cheerful demeanor. Reaching Wills's Creek, he
there left them to enjoy the full abundance which they found awaiting
them at that place; and, in company with Capt. Mackay, repaired at
once to Williamsburg to report the result of the campaign to Gov.
Dinwiddie.

A short time after, the terms of surrender were laid before the
Virginia House of Burgesses, and received the entire approval of that
wise body; who, although the expedition had ended in defeat and
failure, most cheerfully gave Col. Washington and his men a vote of
thanks, in testimony of their having done their whole duty as good and
brave and faithful soldiers.




XIV.

GENERAL BRADDOCK.


Having brought the campaign to an honorable if not successful end,
Col. Washington threw up his commission, and left the service. This
had been his determination for some time past; and he felt that he
could do so now without laying his conduct open to censure or
suspicion, having within his own breast the happy assurance, that, in
the discharge of his late trust, he had acted the part of a faithful
soldier and true patriot, seeking only his country's good. The reasons
that led him to take this step need not be repeated, as you will
readily understand them, if you still bear in mind what I told you a
short time since touching those questions of rank which caused the
difficulty between him and Capt. Mackay.

A visit to his much-beloved mother was the first use he made of his
leisure. The profound love and reverence that never failed to mark his
conduct towards his mother were among the most beautiful traits of his
character. The management of the family estate, and the education of
the younger children, were concerns in which he ever took the
liveliest interest; and to make these labors light and easy to her by
his aid or counsel was a pleasure to him indeed. This grateful duty
duly done, he once more sought the shelter of Mount Vernon, to whose
comforts he had been for so many months a stranger. The toils of a
soldier's life were now exchanged for the peaceful labors of a
husbandman. Nor did this change, to his well-ordered mind, bring with
it any idle regrets; for the quiet pursuits of a farmer's life yielded
him, young, ardent, and adventurous as he was, scarcely less delight
than the profession of arms, and even more as he grew in years.

The affair of the Great Meadows roused the mother-country at last to a
full sense of the danger that threatened her possessions in America.
Accordingly, to regain what had been lost, money, and munitions of
war, and a gallant little army fitted out in the completest style of
that day, were sent over with all possible expedition, under the
command of Major-Gen. Braddock.

From the shrubby heights of Mount Vernon, Washington could look down,
and behold the British ships-of-war as they moved slowly up the
majestic Potomac, their decks thronged with officers and soldiers
dressed in showy uniform, their polished arms and accoutrements
flashing back the cold, clear light of the February sun. From their
encampment at Alexandria, a few miles distant, he could hear the
booming of their morning and evening guns, as it came roiling over the
hills and through the woods, and shook his quiet home like a sullen
summons to arms. Often, no longer able to keep down his youthful
ardor, he would mount his horse, and, galloping up to the town, spend
hours there in watching the different companies, as with the precision
of clockwork they went through their varied and difficult evolutions.
At these sights and sounds, all the martial spirit within him took
fire again.

To Gen. Braddock, who commanded all the forces in America, provincial
as well as royal, Gov. Dinwiddie and other Virginia notables spoke in
the highest terms of the character of young Washington; giving him at
the same time still further particulars of the brave and soldierly
conduct he had so signally shown during the campaign of the previous
year. They took pleasure, they said, in recommending him as one whose
skill and experience in Indian warfare, and thorough acquaintance with
the wild country beyond the borders, were such as could be turned to
the greatest advantage in the course of the following campaign.

Desirous of securing services of such peculiar value, Braddock sent
our young Virginian a courteous invitation to join his staff; offering
him the post of volunteer aide-de-camp, with the rank of colonel. Here
was an opportunity of gratifying his taste for arms under one of the
first generals of the day. Could he do it without the sacrifice of
honor or self-respect? Although he had left the service for the best
of reasons, as you must bear in mind, yet there was nothing in these
reasons to hinder him from serving his country, not for pay, but as a
generous volunteer, bearing his own expenses. Besides, such a post as
this would place him altogether above the authority of any equal or
inferior officer who might chance to hold a king's commission.
Debating thus with himself, and urged on by his friends, he accepted
Braddock's invitation, and joined his staff as volunteer aide-de-camp.

Now, would you know what an aide-de-camp is? Wait, and you will find
out for yourselves when we come to the battle of the Monongahela,
where Braddock suffered his gallant little army to be cut to pieces by
the French and Indians.

When Mrs. Washington heard that her son was on the eve of joining the
new army, full of a mother's fears, she hastened to entreat him not
again to expose himself to the dangers and trials of a soldier's life.
Although the army was the only opening to distinction at that time in
the Colonies, yet, to have him ever near her, she would rather have
seen him quietly settled at his beautiful homestead, as an
unpretending farmer, than on the high road to every worldly honor at
the risk of life or virtue. Ever mindful of her slightest wishes, her
son listened respectfully to all her objections, and said all he could
to quiet her motherly fears: but, feeling that he owed his highest
duty to his country, he was not to be turned from his steadfast
purpose; and, taking an affectionate leave of her, he set out to join
his general at Fort Cumberland.

Fort Cumberland was situated on Wills's Creek, and had just been built
by Braddock as a gathering point for the border; and thither he had
removed his whole army, with all his stores, and munitions of war.
Upon further acquaintance, Washington found this old veteran a man of
courteous though somewhat haughty manners, of a hasty and uneven
temper, strict and rigid in the discipline of his soldiers, much given
to martial pomp and parade, and self-conceited and wilful to a degree
that was sometimes scarcely bearable. He was, however, of a sociable
and hospitable turn; often inviting his officers to dine with him, and
entertaining them like princes. So keen a relish had he for the good
things of the table, that he never travelled without his two cooks,
who were said to have been so uncommonly skilful in their line of
business, that they could take a pair of boots, and boil them down
into a very respectable dish of soup, give them only the seasoning to
finish it off with. The little folks, however, must be very cautious
how they receive this story, as their Uncle Juvinell will not
undertake to vouch for the truth of it.

The contractors--that is to say, the men who had been engaged to
furnish the army with a certain number of horses, pack-saddles, and
wagons, by a certain time, and for a certain consideration--had failed
to be as good as their word, and had thereby seriously hindered the
progress of the campaign. As might have been expected, this was enough
to throw such a man as Braddock into a towering passion; and, to mend
his humor, the governors of the different provinces were not as ready
and brisk to answer his call for men and supplies as he thought he had
a right to expect.

So he poured forth his vials of wrath upon whomsoever or whatsoever
chanced to come uppermost. He stormed at the contractors; he railed at
the governors, and sneered at the troops they sent him; he abused the
country in general, and scolded about the bad roads in particular.

Washington, with his usual clearness of insight into character, soon
saw, to his deep disappointment, that this was hardly the man to
conduct a wilderness campaign to any thing like a successful end,
however brave the testy old veteran might be, and expert in the
management of well-drilled regulars in the open and cultivated regions
of the Old World. Of the same opinion was Dr. Franklin, who, being at
that time Postmaster-General of all the Colonies, came to Braddock's
quarters at Fort Cumberland to make some arrangements for transporting
the mail to and from the army during the progress of the expedition. I
will read you his own lively account of this interview, as it will
enable you to see more clearly those faults of Braddock's character
that so soon after brought ruin on his own head, and disgrace upon
English arms in America.

     "In conversation with him one day, he was giving me some
     account of his intended progress. 'After taking Fort Duquesne,'
     said he, 'I am to proceed to Niagara; and, having taken that,
     to Frontenac, if the season will allow; and I suppose it will,
     for Duquesne can hardly detain me above three or four days: and
     then I can see nothing that can obstruct my march to Niagara.'

     "Having before revolved in my mind the long line his army must
     make in their march by a very narrow road to be cut for them
     through the woods and bushes, and also what I had heard of a
     former defeat of fifteen hundred French who invaded the
     Illinois country, I had conceived some doubts and some fears
     for the event of the campaign; but I ventured only to say, 'To
     be sure, sir, if you arrive well before Duquesne with these
     fine troops, so well provided with artillery, the fort, though
     completely fortified and assisted with a very strong garrison,
     can probably make but a short resistance. The only danger I
     apprehend of obstruction to your march is from the ambuscades
     of the Indians, who, by constant practice, are dexterous in
     laying and executing them; and the slender line, nearly four
     miles long, which your army must make, may expose it to be
     attacked by surprise on its flanks, and to be cut like thread
     into several pieces, which, from their distance, cannot come up
     in time to support one another.' He smiled at my ignorance, and
     replied,"'These savages may, indeed, be a formidable enemy to
     raw American militia; but upon the king's regular and
     disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should make an
     impression.'

     "I was conscious of an impropriety in my disputing with a
     military man in matters of his profession, and said no more."

In the course of this interview, Franklin chanced to express a regret
that the army had not been landed in Pennsylvania, where, as every
farmer kept his own wagon and horses, better means would have been
more readily found for transporting the troops, with their heavy guns
and munitions of war, across the country and over the mountains. Quick
to take a hint, Braddock made haste to request him, as a man of
standing in his colony, to furnish him, in the king's name, one
hundred and fifty wagons, and four horses to each wagon, besides a
large number of pack-horses and pack-saddles. This, Franklin readily
undertook to do; and went about it with such diligence, that by the
latter part of spring, even before the time set, he had fulfilled his
promise to the last letter; and Braddock had now the satisfaction of
seeing his army, after all these vexatious delays, in a condition to
move forward.

Meanwhile, Washington was all attention to affairs in camp, and was
daily gaining fresh insight into the art of war, as understood and
practised in the most civilized countries of the Old World. Every day
the men were drilled, and passed under review; their arms and
accoutrements carefully inspected by their officers, to make sure that
they were in perfect order, and ready for use at a moment's notice.
Sentinels and guards were stationed in and about the camp, day and
night.

So strict was the watch kept by this lynx-eyed old general over the
morals of his men, that drunkenness was punished with severe
confinement; and any one found guilty of theft was drummed out of his
regiment, after receiving five hundred stripes on his bare back. Every
Sunday, the soldiers were called together, under the colors of their
separate regiments, to hear divine service performed by their
chaplains.

To lend variety to the scene, the Indians of the neighboring
wilderness came flocking in to join their fortunes with the English,
or bring information of the movements or designs of the French. Among
these came his old friend and ally, White Thunder, keeper of the
speech-belt; and Silver Heels, a renowned warrior, so called, no
doubt, from his being uncommonly nimble of foot. Also, as we shall
meet him again hereafter, should be mentioned another sachem, whose
Indian name the little folks must excuse their Uncle Juvinell from
giving them in full. By your leave, then, for the sake of brevity and
convenience, we will call him by the last two syllables of his name,
Yadi. From them Washington learned, much to his regret, that his red
brother, the Half King, had died a few months before; having, as the
conjurors or medicine-men of his tribe pretended, been bewitched by
the French for the terrible blow he had dealt them at the battle of
Jumonville, which had filled them with such terror, that they dared
not hope for safety in the wide earth till certain that he walked and
ate and slept no more among living men.

Although Braddock held these savage allies in high contempt, yet when
Washington pointed out to him how much was to be gained by their
friendship, and how much to be lost by their enmity, he was persuaded,
for that one time at least, to treat them with marked respect and
distinction.

To give them an overwhelming idea of the power and splendor of English
arms, he received them with all the honors of war,--fifes playing,
drums beating, and the regulars lowering their muskets as they passed
on to the general's tent. Here Braddock received them in the midst of
his officers, and made them a speech of welcome, in the course of
which he told them of the deep sorrow felt by their great father, the
King of England, for the death of his red brother, the Half King; and
that, to console his red children in America for so grievous a loss,
as well as to reward them for their friendship and services to the
English, he had sent them many rich and handsome presents, which they
should receive before leaving the fort. This speech was answered by a
dozen warriors in as many orations, which being very long and very
flowery, and very little to the point, bored their English listeners
dreadfully. The peace-pipe smoked and the Big Talk ended, Braddock, by
way of putting a cap on the grand occasion, ordered all the fifes to
play, and drums to beat, and, in the midst of the music, all the guns
in the fort to be fired at once. He then caused a bullock to be
killed, and roasted whole, for the refreshment of his Indian guests.

The Indians, in their turn, to show how sensible they were of the
honor done them by this distinguished reception, entertained the
English by dancing their war-dances and singing their war-songs: by
which you are to understand that they jumped and whirled and capered
about in a thousand outlandish antics till they grew limber and weak
in the knees, and yelped and bellowed and howled till their bodies
were almost empty of breath; when, from very exhaustion, they hushed
their barbarous din, and night and slumber fell on the camp. In the
daytime, these lords of the forest, tricked out in all their savage
finery, their faces streaked with war-paint and their scalp-locks
brave with gay bunches of feathers, would stalk about the fort, big
with wonder over every thing they saw. Now and then, they would follow
with admiring eyes the rapid and skilful movement of the red-coated
regulars, as one or other of the regiments, like some huge machine,
went through their martial exercises; or, standing on the ramparts,
they would watch with still keener zest and interest the young
officers as they amused themselves by racing their horses outside the
fort.

As ill luck would have it, these warriors had brought with them their
wives and children, among whom were many very pretty Indian girls,
with plump, round forms, little hands and feet, and beady, roguish
eyes. As female society was not by any means one of the charms of life
at Fort Cumberland, the coming of these wild beauties was hailed with
the liveliest delight by the young English officers, who, the moment
they laid eyes on them, fell to loving them to desperation. First
among these forest belles was one who went by the expressive name of
Bright Lightning; so called, no doubt, from being the favorite
daughter of White Thunder. It being noised abroad that she was a
savage princess of the very first blood, she, of course, at once
became the centre of fashionable attraction, and the leading toast of
all the young blades in camp. No sooner, however, did the warriors get
wind of these gallantries, than they were quite beside themselves with
rage and jealousy, and straightway put an end to them; making the
erring fair ones pack off home, bag and baggage, sorely to their
disappointment, as well as to that of the young British lions, who
were quite inconsolable for their loss.

This scandalous behavior on the part of the English--of which,
however, your Uncle Juvinell may have spoken more lightly than he
ought--was, as you may well believe, very disgusting to Washington,
who was a young man of the purest thoughts and habits. As may be
naturally supposed, it gave deep and lasting offence to the sachems;
and when to this is coupled the fact, that their wishes and opinions
touching war-matters were never heeded or consulted, we cannot wonder
that they one by one forsook the English, with all their warriors, and
came no more.

Foreseeing this, and well knowing what valuable service these people
could render as scouts and spies, Washington had gone to Braddock,
time and again, warning him to treat them with more regard to their
peculiar whims and customs, if he did not wish to lose the advantages
to be expected from their friendship, or bring upon him the terrible
consequences of their enmity. As this wise and timely advice came from
a young provincial colonel, the wrong-headed old general treated it,
of course, with high disdain, and to the last remained obstinate in
the belief that he could march to the very heart of the continent
without meeting an enemy who could withstand his well-drilled regulars
and fine artillery.

And thus, my dear children, did this rash and wilful man cast lightly
away the golden opportunity, wherein, by a few kind words, or tokens
of respect, he could have gained the lasting friendship of this
much-despised race, and thereby made them, in all human likelihood,
the humble means of saving from early destruction the finest army,
which, up to that time, had carried its banners to the Western World.




XV.

ROUGH WORK.


At last, all things were got in readiness; and the gallant little army
began its toilsome march through the forest, and over the mountains,
and up and down the valleys. Beside the regulars, fourteen hundred
strong, it consisted of two companies of hatchet-men, or carpenters,
whose business it was to go on before, and open the road; a small
company of seamen, who had the care and management of the artillery;
six companies of rangers, some of whom were Pennsylvanians; and two
companies of light horse, which, being composed of young men taken
from the very first families of Virginia, Braddock had chosen to be
his body-guard: the whole numbering two thousand, or thereabouts.

Owing to the difficulty of dragging the loaded wagons and heavy guns
over the steep and rocky roads, the march was slow and tedious in the
extreme; and what made it still more trying to Washington's patience
was to see so many wagons and pack-horses loaded down with the private
baggage of the English officers,--such as fine clothing, table
dainties, and a hundred little troublesome conveniences, which they
must needs lug about with them wherever they went. Weeks before they
left Fort Cumberland, Washington had pointed out to Braddock the folly
of attempting to cross that monstrous mountain barrier with a cumbrous
train of wheel-carriages; and expressed the opinion, that, for the
present, they had better leave the bulk of their baggage and their
heaviest artillery, and, trusting entirely to pack-horses for
transporting what should be needed most, make their way at once to
Fort Duquesne while the garrison was yet too weak to offer any
resistance. This prudent counsel, however, as usual, had failed to
produce the least effect on the narrow and stubborn mind of Braddock;
but by the time he had dragged his unwieldy length over two or three
mountains, and had made but a few miles in many days, it began to dawn
on his mind by slow degrees, that a campaign in an American wilderness
was a very different thing from what it was in the cultivated regions
of Europe, where nearly every meadow, field, or wood, could tell of a
Christian and civilized battle there fought, and where the fine roads
and bridges made the march of an army a mere holiday jaunt as compared
to this rough service. The difficulties that beset him seeming to
thicken around him at every step, he was at last so sorely put to it
and perplexed as to be obliged to turn to the young provincial
colonel for that advice which he, in his blind self-confidence, had
but a short while before disdained.

Too well bred to seem surprised at this unbending of the haughty old
general, although he really was not a little, Washington readily, yet
with all becoming modesty, did as he was desired, in a clear, brief,
and soldierly manner. He gave it as his opinion, that their best plan
would be to divide the army into two parts,--the smaller division,
under command of Col. Dunbar, to form the rear, and bring up the heavy
guns and baggage-wagons; the larger division, under the command of
Braddock, to form the advance, and taking with it but two pieces of
light artillery, and no more baggage than could be conveniently
carried on pack-horses, push rapidly on to Fort Duquesne, and surprise
the garrison before they could receive timely warning of their danger,
or be re-enforced by the troops from Canada, which would have arrived
ere then, had not the summer drought prevented. To some extent, this
prudent advice was followed; and, to give it the force of example,
Washington reduced his baggage to a few little necessaries that he
could easily carry in a small portmanteau strapped to his back, and
gave his fine charger to be used as a pack-horse. His brother
provincial officers, accustomed as they were to dealing with the
difficulties and inconveniences of a backwoods life, in a ready,
off-hand fashion, followed his example with the greatest willingness
and good-humor. Notwithstanding this, however, there were still two
hundred pack-horses loaded with the private baggage of the English
officers, who were unwilling, even in that hour of pressing need, to
make this little sacrifice of their present comfort to the common
good. So tender did they seem of their bodily ease, and so given up to
the pleasures of appetite, that Washington began to have serious
doubts of their fitness to endure the hardships of a rough campaign,
and of their courage and firmness to face the dangers of the
battle-field.

One evening late, about this time, as the army lay encamped at the
Little Meadows, there suddenly appeared among them, from the
neighboring woods, a large party of hunters, all Pennsylvanians,
dressed in the wild garb of Indians, and armed with hatchets, knives,
and rifles. Their leader was a certain Capt. Jack, one of the greatest
hunters of his day, and nearly as famous in the border tales of
Pennsylvania as Daniel Boone in those of green Kentucky. When your
Uncle Juvinell was quite a lad, he read the story of this strange man,
in an old book, which pleased and interested him so much at the time,
that he has never since forgotten it, and will now repeat it to you in
the very words of the old chronicler:--

     "The 'Black Hunter,' the 'Black Rifle,' the 'Wild Hunter of
     Juniata,' is a white man. His history is this: He entered the
     woods with a few enterprising companions, built his cabin,
     cleared a little land, and amused himself with the pleasure of
     fishing and hunting. He felt happy; for then he had not a care.
     But on an evening, when he returned from a day of sport, he
     found his cabin burnt, his wife and children murdered. From
     that moment he forsakes civilized man, hunts out caves in which
     he lives, protects the frontier inhabitants from the Indians,
     and seizes every opportunity of revenge that offers. He lives
     the terror of the Indians, and the consolation of the whites.
     On one occasion, near Juniata, in the middle of a dark night, a
     family were suddenly awaked from sleep by the report of a gun.
     They jumped from their huts; and, by the glimmering light from
     the chimney, saw an Indian fall to rise no more. The open door
     exposed to view the Wild Hunter. 'I have saved your lives!' he
     cried; then turned, and was buried in the gloom of night."

Bidding his leather-stockings to wait where they were till he came
back, the Black Hunter strode on to the general's tent, and, without
more ado than to enter, made known the object of his coming there, in
a speech that smacked somewhat of the Indian style of oratory; which I
will give you, as nearly as I can, in his own words:--

     "Englishmen, the foe is on the watch. He lurks in the
     strongholds of the mountains. He hides in the shadows of the
     forest. He hovers over you like a hungry vulture ready to
     pounce upon its prey. He has made a boast that he will keep his
     eye upon you, from his look-outs on the hills, day and night,
     till you have walked into his snare, when he will shoot down
     your gay red-birds like pigeons. Englishmen, dangers thicken
     round you at every step; but in the pride of your strength you
     have blinded your eyes, so that you see them not. I have
     brought my hunters, who are brave and trusty men, to serve you
     as scouts and spies. In your front and in your rear, and on
     either hand, we will scour the woods, and beat the bushes, to
     stir up the lurking foe, that your gallant men fall not into
     his murderous ambuscade. To us the secret places of the
     wilderness are as an open book; in its depths we have made our
     homes this many a year: there we can find both food and
     shelter. We ask no pay, and our rifles are all our own."

To this noble and disinterested offer, Braddock returned a cold and
haughty answer.

     "There is time enough," said he, "for making such arrangements;
     and I have experienced troops on whom I can rely."

Stung to the quick by this uncivil and ungenerous treatment, the Black
Hunter, without another word, turned, and, with a kindling eye and
proud step, left the tent. When he told his followers of the scornful
manner in which the English general had treated their leader, and
rejected their offer of service, they staid not, but, with angry and
indignant mien, filed out of the camp, and, plunging once more into
the wilderness, left the devoted little army to march on to that
destruction to which its ill-starred commander seemed so fatally bent
on leading it. The contemptuous indifference which always marked the
demeanor of Braddock towards these rude but brave and trusty warriors
of the woods was very offensive to Washington; the more, as he knew,
that, when it came to be put to the test, these men, unskilled though
they were in the modes of civilized warfare, would be found far better
fitted to cope with the cunning and stealthy enemy they had then to
deal with, than those well-dressed, well-armed, well-drilled, but
unwieldy regulars.

After having rested a few days at the Little Meadows, the advanced
division of the army once more took up the line of march; but, to
Washington's disappointment, made scarcely better speed than before,
although lightened of nearly all of the heavy baggage. "I found,"
wrote he a short time after, "that, instead of pushing on with vigor,
we were halting to level every mole-hill, and erect bridges over every
brook; by which means we were sometimes four days in getting twelve
miles." Slowly the long and straggling lines held on their weary way,
now scrambling over some rugged steep, now winding along some narrow
defile, till at length the silence of that gloomy vale--the Shades of
Death--was again broken by the shouts and uproar of a marching army.

For several days, Washington had been suffering much from fever,
attended with a racking headache, which had obliged him to travel in a
covered wagon. By the time they reached the great crossings of the
Youghiogeny, his illness had so increased, that Dr. Craik, his good
friend and physician, declared it would be almost certain death for
him to travel further; at the same time advising him to stay where he
was until his fever should somewhat abate its violence, when he could
come up with Dunbar's rear division. His brother officers also, and
even his old general, kindly urged him to give up all thought of going
on for the present; while, to render his disappointment more bearable,
some of them promised to keep him informed, by writing, of every thing
noteworthy which should happen in the course of their march. Seeing
then; was no help for it, he suffered himself to be left behind: but
it was with a sad and heavy heart that, he saw them pass on without
him; and when they had vanished, one by one, in the shadows of the
neighboring wilds, and the gleaming of their arms could no longer be
seen through the openings of the trees and bushes, he turned with a
sigh, and said to the men whom Braddock had left to nurse and guard
him, "I would not for five hundred pounds miss being at the taking of
Fort Duquesne." Here he lay for ten days; his fever, no doubt, much
aggravated by his impatience to rejoin his comrades, and the fear lest
he should not be well in time to share with them the dangers and
honors of the coming contest.

Meanwhile, Braddock pursued his slow and tedious march, and in a few
days had passed the Great Meadows, where young Washington, the year
before, as you must well remember, had learned his first lessons in
the rude art of war. A few miles beyond this, he came to a deserted
Indian camp, on the top of a rocky hill, where, to judge from the
number of wigwams, at least one hundred and seventy warriors must have
lodged. The fires were still burning; which showed but too plainly
that the stealthy foe was on the watch, and not far distant. Some of
the trees hard by had been stripped of their bark; and on their white,
sappy trunks were to be seen, in the rude picture-writing of the
Indians, savage taunts and threats of vengeance meant for the English;
while intermixed with these were bullying boasts and blackguard slang,
written in the French language, as if to force on the notice of those
who were to read them the fact, that there were white as well as red
men lurking near.

It had almost slipped my mind to tell you, that Braddock, moved
perhaps by the advice of Washington, had, before setting out from Fort
Cumberland, employed a small party of Indians, with their sachem Yadi
at their head, to serve as guides and spies during the campaign. A few
days after passing the deserted camp on the rock, four or five
soldiers, straggling too far in the rear, were suddenly waylaid by the
prowling foe, and all murdered and scalped on the spot.

To avenge the death of their comrades, a squad of regulars went out
in quest of the enemy, and soon came in sight of a small party of
Indians, who held up the boughs of trees before them, and stood their
rifles on the ground, as a sign that they were friends. Not
understanding this, however, and the distance being too great for them
to make out who they were, the blundering regulars fired, and one of
the party fell dead on the spot,--a youthful warrior, who proved to be
the son of the sachem Yadi. When Braddock heard of this melancholy
accident, he was deeply grieved. He forthwith sent for the bereaved
father, and, to his praise be it ever recorded, endeavored, by kind
words and liberal presents, to console him, and make some little
amends for his heavy loss; and, as a still further token of his
regard, he ordered the hapless youth to be buried with all the honors
of war. The body, borne on a bier, was followed by the officers, two
and two; while the soldiers, drawn up in two lines, with the grave
between them, stood facing each other, with the points of their
muskets turned downward, and their chins resting in the hollow of the
breeches. When the body was lowered, they fired three volleys over the
grave, and left the young warrior to his long sleep on the hillside,
with his bright hatchet and trusty rifle beside him. All this was very
soothing to the sorrow and gratifying to the fatherly pride of the old
sachem, and made him ever after a loving friend and faithful ally of
the English. I have told you this little story to show you, that this
testy and obstinate old general, with all his faults, was far from
being the hard, unfeeling man that he sometimes seemed; and also as a
tribute that every historian should pay to the memory of one whose
misfortune it has been to be blamed so much, and pitied so little.

By this time, Washington had so far regained his strength as to admit
of his being borne along in a covered wagon; and, setting out
accordingly, in five days came up with the advance division, where it
lay encamped in a beautiful spot about two miles from the Monongahela,
and fifteen miles from Fort Duquesne. Here he was joyfully welcomed by
both officers and men, with whom his generosity, and frank, manly
bearing, had made him a great favorite. Shortly after his arrival, Mr.
Gist and two Indian scouts, who had been sent out to reconnoitre or
spy out the enemy, came back with the cheering tidings, that the
re-enforcements had not yet come down from Canada, and that the
garrison in the fort was at present too weak to stand a single hour's
siege. But what gave him a little uneasiness was a lofty column of
smoke, rising from a deep and densely wooded hollow, where they were
quite sure the watchful enemy was lurking, and hatching some mischief
for the English.

Now, the fort and the camp lay on the same side of the river; and the
most direct route between them was by a narrow mountain pass, rising
abruptly from the water's edge on the left, and, on the right, shut
in by a steep and lofty hill, whose stony sides were overgrown with
laurel and stunted cedars and pines. As it was altogether out of the
question to drag their wagons and artillery along this pass, it was
resolved to cross the river, first at a point just over against the
camp, and then, moving down along the opposite bank, recross it at
another point five miles below; at both of which places the fords were
shallow, and the banks not high.

At last, the 9th of July, 1755,--a day ever to be remembered in
American annals,--began to dawn. Long before its first red light had
streaked the east, a hum in the camp told that the little army was,
even at that hour, all astir, and big with the bustle of preparation.
Officers and men were in the highest hopes, and looked forward with
confidence to the coming evening, when they were to plant their
victorious banners on the ramparts of Fort Duquesne. Although they had
marched thus far without serious molestation, yet Col. Washington's
fears of an ambuscade were not a whit diminished; for he felt quite
certain that they should never reach the French fort without an
attempt being made to surprise, or drive them back. Full of these
apprehensions, he went to Gen. Braddock, and, pointing out to him the
danger hanging over them, urged him by all means to send out the
Virginia rangers to scour the woods and thickets, front and flank, and
beat up the enemy, should any chance to be lurking near with the
design of drawing them into an ambuscade. No advice, as it afterwards
turned out, could have been more timely: but, coming from a raw
provincial colonel, Braddock cast it aside with angry impatience; and
when the line of march was formed, as if to show in what light esteem
he held it, he ordered the rangers to the rear, to guard the baggage.
Before daybreak, a large party of pioneers, or road-cutters, with a
small guard of regulars, numbering in all about three hundred, had
gone on before to open a passage for the army through the woods, and
make the fords more passable by levelling the banks.

The midsummer sun was shooting its first beams, level and red, among
the Alleghany hills, when the little army, having crossed the
Monongahela at the upper ford, stood on its southern bank, forming in
line of march. By order of their general, officers and men had scoured
and polished their arms and accoutrements the night before; and now
appeared in full uniform, as if some grand military parade were to be
the programme of the day. The whole line was soon moving slowly
forward, with fifes playing, drums beating, and colors flying; the
regulars keeping step the while to the "Grenadier's March." In the
clear and tranquil depths of the river, as they moved along its shady
banks, could be seen, as in a mirror, the long array of
leather-shirted rangers and red-coated regulars, with their sun-lit
arms and prancing steeds, and bright banners that floated in the
morning breeze. This brilliant spectacle, so well set off by the
smiling river in front and the frowning woods beyond, formed a picture
that ever lived in the memory of Washington; and in after-years he
used often to say, that, as it then appeared to him, he thought he had
never seen any thing so beautiful. In the enthusiasm of the moment, he
forgot his late illness, the still enfeebled condition of his
body,--all, save the glory of serving his country; and, mounting his
horse, he joined his brother-aides in their attendance on their
general, else far more fatal must have been the end of that bloody
day.




XVI.

BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT.


In my account of this battle, as well as all the others that will come
thundering in upon us from time to time in the course of our story, I
have thought it would suit our purpose best to touch upon those facts
only that are likeliest to leave the most lasting pictures of such
events on your minds; using the while no more words than may actually
be needed to give clearness and completeness to the same. And now,
Daniel, my young Herodotus, and Ned, my young Hannibal, bring in
another Christmas log, that we may have a more cheerful blaze; for our
story will be doleful enough for the next half-hour, without these
goblin shadows dodging and flitting about the room to make it more so.

At mid-day, Braddock's army came to the lower ford, where a halt was
called to allow of a few minutes' rest. Far in front, across the
river, the ringing of a hundred axes, followed at short intervals by
the crash of falling trees, could be distinctly heard; telling that
the pioneers were there, working might and main to clear a passage for
those behind. The road just opened, after leaving the ford, ran
across a heavily wooded bottom that skirted the river; and thence, for
a few hundred yards, up a rocky <DW72> to the foot of a high range of
hills, about a mile distant, where it entered a narrow, bushy defile,
and went no further. The country, for miles and miles around, as far
as the eye could reach, was thickly wooded, save the rocky <DW72> just
mentioned, and the neighboring ravines, which were overgrown with
long, coarse grass and whortleberry-bushes, so high as to sweep the
horses' bellies; with here and there a few scattering trees of some
size. It was the very place, of all others, that the wily Indian would
be most likely to choose for his ambuscade.

By two o'clock, the whole army had regained the northern bank of the
river. They were now within ten miles of Fort Duquesne, and a lucky
end to their present campaign seemed near at hand. In a few minutes,
artillery and baggage, foot and horse, regulars and rangers, formed
into separate and distinct columns, stood ready to move as soon as the
word should be given. Just at the moment, however, when they were
listening to hear the order, "Forward, march!" drop from their
general's lips, they were startled by a sudden and heavy firing among
the hills, which put a sudden stop to the hundred axes, and told but
too plainly that the road-cutters and their guard of regulars had been
drawn into an ambuscade. Washington knew at once, and too well, that
the evil he dreaded from the beginning, had, on the very eve of
success, come upon them; and with it also came the painful reflection,
that it would never have so befallen them, had the rangers been
suffered to scour the woods, and beat up the enemy, as had been
recommended by him but a few hours before. Braddock forthwith ordered
two companies to hurry on to the relief of the pioneers; and, at his
bidding, one of his aides spurred forward to learn further of the
matter, and bring him word. The firing grew heavier and heavier, and
seemed to be coming nearer and nearer. The lonely hills and woods
around rang with the whoops and yells of the unseen savages. Not able
to restrain his impatience till his aide came back, Braddock ordered
his main division to come up at double-quick; and, taking with him his
two remaining aides and a small guard of light-horse, galloped up to
the scene of action. Here what was his rage and mortification to find
his doughty regulars, of whom he had boasted so much, changed, as it
were in the whistling of a bullet, into a mere disorderly rabble of
red-coats,--confused, bewildered, to a degree that he could never have
dreamed possible! Crowded and huddled together in the narrow road, he
saw them dropping down under the Indian bullets, helpless as a herd of
frightened deer beset by a band of unseen hunters.

By this time, the Indians, still hid from view by the grass and
bushes, had stretched their lines along either side of the road, from
the hollows among the hills to some distance down the rocky <DW72>, and
were pouring in a murderous fire upon the affrighted English; yelling
and whooping the while like a legion of devils at some infernal
frolic. Two bayonet charges had been made to drive them from their
hiding-places, but in vain. The regulars, notwithstanding their
officers' orders to the contrary, kept up a hurried but random firing,
which had little or no effect upon the enemy, as nothing could be seen
of him but the puffs of rifle-smoke that rose and hovered in little
blue clouds over his place of ambush. The English, it is said, were
less appalled by the whistling bullet; of the unseen savages than by
their unearthly yells,--a sound that none of them had ever heard
before, and many a poor fellow of them never heard again. The Indian
war-whoop has been described as a sound so wild and terrible, that,
when once heard in battle, it rings in the listener's ears for weeks
thereafter, and is never forgotten even to his dying day.

But the English officers, on the contrary, behaved themselves with a
gallantry that filled Washington with astonishment and admiration.
Heretofore he had seen them only in camp or on the line of march,
where their habits of ease and self-indulgence had led him to doubt
their having the courage and firmness to face, without shrinking,
danger in such appalling forms. Unmindful of the bullets that whistled
continually about their heads, they galloped up and down the broken
and bleeding lines, in the vain endeavor to rally their men, and bring
them again to something like order. Mounted on fine horses, and
dressed in rich uniforms, they offered a tempting mark to the unseen
rifles that were levelled at them from behind every tree and bush, and
tuft of grass; and, ere the work of death was finished, many a gallant
steed, with dangling reins and bloody saddle, dashed riderless about
the field. And, as if this were not enough, many of them must needs
fall victims to the unsoldierly conduct of their own men, who,
forgetful of all discipline, and quite beside themselves with terror
and bewilderment, loaded their pieces hurriedly, and fired them off at
random, killing friends as well as foes. Nor did this most shameful
part of the bloody scene end here: many of the Virginia rangers, who
had already taken to the trees and bushes, and were doing good service
by fighting the Indians in their own fashion, were shot down by the
blundering regulars, who fired into the woods wherever they saw a puff
of smoke, unable to distinguish whether it rose from a red or a white
man's rifle. Upon these brave rangers the brunt of the battle fell;
and indeed, had it not been for their firmness and presence of mind,
their skill and address in the arts and strategems of Indian warfare,
which enabled them for a time to hold the enemy in check, hardly a
remnant of Braddock's fine army would have survived to behold the
going-down of that summer's sun.

At the very commencement of the battle, a small party of warriors,
cheered on by a French officer in a fancifully trimmed hunting-shirt,
had leaped out from their covert into the road, with the view, it
seemed, of cutting off those in front from the assistance of their
comrades in the rear; but the regulars, who guarded the road-cutters,
having discharged a well-aimed volley of musketry into their very
faces, they had turned, and fled with even more haste than they had
come, leaving behind them several of their number dead on the spot,
and among these their dashing French leader. After that, they had
taken care to keep close under cover of the grass and bushes. Now and
then, however, a tall brave, grim and hideous with war-paint, with a
yell of defiance would leap from his ambush, and, darting into the
road, tomahawk and scalp a wounded officer just fallen; then vanish
again as suddenly as if the earth had opened to swallow him up.

All this while, Col. Washington had borne himself with a firmness,
courage, and presence of mind, that would have done honor to a
forty-years' veteran. His two brother aides-de-camp having been
wounded early in the engagement, the whole duty of carrying the
general's orders had fallen on him; and nobly did he that day
discharge it. Although brave men were falling thick and fast on every
side, yet he shrank from no exposure, however perilous, did his duty
but lead him there. Mounted on horseback, his tall and stately form
was to be seen in every part of the field, the mark of a hundred
rifles, whose deadly muzzles were pointed at him whithersoever he
went. Two horses were shot dead under him, and his coat was pierced
with bullets; but he seemed to bear about him a charmed life, and went
unharmed. His danger was so great, that his friend Dr. Craik, who
watched his movements with anxious interest, looked every moment to
see him fall headlong to the ground; and that he came off alive seemed
to him a miracle. Washington himself, with that piety which ever
marked his character, laid his deliverance from the perils of that
fatal day to the overruling care of a kind and watchful Providence.

Although brought thus suddenly face to face with new and untried
dangers, Braddock bore himself throughout the day like the valiant man
that he really was. The bullets and yells of the invisible foe he
scarcely noticed, as he galloped hither and thither about the field,
giving his orders through a speaking-trumpet, whose brazen voice rose
loud and hoarse above the din of battle. Under the mistaken notion
that a savage enemy, hid in a thicket, was to be dealt with as a
civilized one in an open plain, he sought to recover his lost ground
by forming his men into companies and battalions; which, however, he
had no sooner done, than they were mowed down by the murderous fire
from the ambush, that had never ceased. "My soldiers," said he, "would
fight, could they but see their enemy; but it is vain to shoot at
trees and bushes." Whereupon Washington urgently besought him to let
his regulars fight the Indians in their own fashion, which would the
better enable them to pick off the lurking foe with less danger to
their own safety. But Braddock's only answer to this was a sneer; and
some of his regulars, who were already acting upon the suggestion, he
angrily ordered back into the ranks, calling them cowards, and even
striking them with the flat of his sword. He then caused the colors of
the two regiments to be advanced in different parts of the field, that
the soldiers might rally around their separate standards. It was all
in vain. In his excitement, he cheered, he entreated, he swore, he
stormed: it was only a waste of breath; for the poor fellows were too
disheartened and broken, too overcome by mortal fear, to rally again.

Col. Washington, seeing that the day was on the point of being lost,
galloped down to the rear to see if nothing could be done with the
artillery; but he found the gunners in a most disorderly plight,
benumbed with terror, and utterly unable to manage their guns. What
Washington did on this occasion, I had better tell you in the words of
an old Pennsylvania soldier, who was there at the time, and survived
the battle for half a hundred years or more; and used often, for the
entertainment of your Uncle Juvinell and other little boys, to fight
his battles over again as he sat smoking in his chimney corner.

     "I saw Col. Washington," he would say, "spring from his panting
     horse, and seize a brass field-piece as if it had been a stick.
     His look was terrible. He put his right hand on the muzzle, his
     left hand on the breech; he pulled with this, he pushed with
     that, and wheeled it round, as if it had been a plaything: it
     furrowed the ground like a ploughshare. He tore the sheet-lead
     from the touch-hole; then the powder-monkey rushed up with the
     fire, when the cannon went off, making the bark fly from the
     trees, and many an Indian send up his last yell and bite the
     dust."

This, however, gave the savages but a momentary check, as he could not
follow it up; there being no one by ready and willing to lend him a
helping hand. The Virginia rangers and other provincial troops, who
had done the only good fighting of the day, were thinned out to
one-fourth their number; and the few that remained were too weary and
faint to hold out longer against such fearful odds. Between the
well-aimed firing of the enemy and the random shooting of the
regulars, the slaughter of the English officers had been frightful:
out of the eighty-six who went into the battle, only twenty-four came
off unhurt. Gen. Braddock had five horses killed under him. By this
time, he had given up all hope of regaining the day; and, galling as
it must have been to his proud spirit, was at last forced to think of
retreating as their only chance of safety. Just as he was on the
point, however, of giving orders to this effect, a bullet--said by
some to have been a random shot from one of his own soldiers--passed
through his arm, and, lodging itself in his lungs, brought him to the
ground, mortally wounded. His officers placed him in a tumbrel, or
pioneer's cart, and bore him from the field, where, in his despair, he
prayed them to leave him to die.

Seeing their leader fall, a fresh panic seized the army. And now
followed a wild and disorderly rout, the like of which was never known
before, and has never since been known, in our border-wars. The
soldiers in front fell back on those in the centre; those in the
centre fell back on those in the rear: till foot and horse, artillery
and baggage, were jammed and jumbled together, making a scene of
dismay and confusion it would be vain for me to attempt to describe.
To add wings to their speed, the Indians, with a long, loud yell of
fiendish triumph, now rushed from their ambush, and, brandishing aloft
their murderous tomahawks, began to press hard on the heels of the
terrified fugitives. The better to elude their savage pursuers, the
regulars threw away their arms, the gunners abandoned their guns, and
the teamsters cut their horses from the traces, and, mounting them,
fled, never halting until they reached Col. Dunbar's camp,--a gallop
of forty miles. A few fell under the tomahawk before the farther bank
of the river could be gained. Here, luckily for the survivors, the
Indians gave over the pursuit, in their eagerness to plunder the
slain, and gather what else of booty might be found on the field.

Thus ended this bloody battle, or rather slaughter; for in truth it
could be called nothing else. Of the sixteen hundred valiant men who
had that morning, in all the bright array of gleaming arms and waving
banners, marched along the banks of that beautiful river, nearly
one-half, ere the sun went down, had fallen on Braddock's Hill. What
made this disaster more shameful still was the weakness of the enemy's
force, which did not exceed eight hundred, of whom only a fourth were
French; and, of all this number, scarcely forty fell in the fight.

Col. Washington was now ordered to ride back with all speed to
Dunbar's camp, to fetch horses, wagons, and hospital-stores for the
relief of the wounded. Although still quite weak from his ten days'
fever, which indeed had left him with no more strength than should
have sufficed for the fatigues of that trying day, yet he set out on
the instant, and, taking with him a guard of grenadiers, travelled the
livelong night. What with those terrible sights and sounds still
ringing in his ears, and flashing before his eyes; what with the
thought of the many dead and dying that lay on the lonely hillside far
behind, with their ghastly upturned faces, more ghastly still in the
light of the moon; and what with the bitter, bitter reflection, that
all this would never have been but for the pride and folly of a single
man,--that ride through the dark and silent woods must have been a
melancholy one indeed. He pushed on, without leaving the saddle, till
late in the afternoon of the following day, when he reached Dunbar's
camp; and gathering together, without loss of time, the necessaries
for which he had been sent, started on his return that same night,
scarcely allowing himself and men an hour for food and rest. Early
next morning, he met the main division at Mr. Gist's plantation,
whither they had dragged their shattered lines the evening before.
From thence they all went on together to the Great Meadows, where they
arrived that same day, and halted.

For the four and twenty hours following the battle, Braddock had
remained sad and silent; never speaking except to say, "Who would have
thought it?" The second day, he seemed more cheerful; for he said, "We
shall better know how to deal with them another time." He spoke in
high praise of the skill and courage shown by the Virginia rangers and
other provincial troops during the whole engagement. He now saw, but
too late, and to his deep regret, that he had not given these rough
and hardy men half the credit due them as good soldiers; and also that
he had made a fatal mistake in underrating the strength, skill, and
address of the enemy he had been sent there to subdue. To Washington
he made a frank and manly apology for the contempt and impatience with
which he had so often treated his prudent and well-timed counsel. As
if wishing to make still further amends for this, he bequeathed to him
his faithful <DW64> servant, Bishop, and his fine white charger, both
of whom had helped to carry their wounded master from the field. On
the fourth day after the battle, he died; having been kindly and
tenderly cared for by Washington and his other surviving officers.

They dug him a grave by the roadside, not a stone's-throw from Fort
Necessity, in the depths of that lonely wilderness; and there, before
the summer morn had dawned, they buried him. In the absence of the
chaplain, the funeral service was read by Washington, in a low and
solemn voice, by the dim and flickering light of a torch. Fearing lest
the enemy might be lurking near, and, spying out the spot, commit some
outrage on his remains, they fired not a farewell shot over the grave
of their unfortunate general,--that last tribute of respect to a
departed soldier, and one he had himself paid, but a short time
before, to a nameless Indian warrior. So there they laid him; and, to
this day, the great highway leading from Cumberland to Pittsburg goes
by the name of Braddock's Road.

I would, my dear children, have you dwell on these glimpses of a more
manly and generous nature that brightened the closing hours of
Braddock's life; because it is but Christian and just that we should
be willing to honor virtue in whomsoever it may be found. With all his
self-conceit and obstinacy, he had a kindly heart, and was a brave
man; and had it been his lot to deal with a civilized enemy, instead
of a savage one, he would, no doubt, have proved himself a skilful
general. And we should not deal too harshly with the memory of a man,
whose faults, however great they may have been, were more than atoned
for by the inglorious death he died, and by "a name ever coupled with
defeat."




XVII.

EXPLANATIONS.


Here, again, Uncle Juvinell paused in his story, and looked beamingly
around on his little auditors. They were all sitting with their eyes
bent earnestly on the burning logs, thinking deeply, no doubt, and
looking as sober as tombstones in the light of a spring morning.

All on a sudden, Willie leaped from his chair, and gave a shrill
Indian war-whoop, that threw the whole bevy into a terrible panic;
making some of the smaller fry scream outright, and even Uncle
Juvinell to blink a little. "There," said the youngster, "is something
to ring in your ears for weeks hereafter, and never to be forgotten
even to your dying day. I heard it the other night at the Indian
circus, and have been practising it myself ever since. I fancy it must
be a pretty fair sample of the genuine thing, or it wouldn't have
scared you all up as it did." Whereupon Uncle Juvinell, frowning over
his spectacles with his brows, and laughing behind them with his eyes,
bade the young blood to pack himself into his chair again, and be
civil; at the same time threatening to put him on a water-gruel diet,
to bring his surplus spirits within reasonable bounds. Then all the
little folks laughed, not so much at what their uncle had said, as to
make believe they had not been frightened in the least; in which
Willie, the cunning rogue, joined, that, under cover of the general
merriment, he might snicker a little to himself at his own smartness.

"And now, my dear children," continued the good man, "hand me the
notes you have written down, that I may see what it is you would have
me explain."

"In five minutes' time after you began," said rattle-brained Willie,
"I became so much interested in the story, that I quite forgot all
about the notes, till it was too late to begin; but I was thinking all
along, that I should like to understand more clearly the difference
between a province and a colony, and"--

"Indeed, uncle," broke in Dannie, "you made every thing so clear and
plain as you went along, that I, for one, didn't feel the need of
writing down a single note."

"Then, Dannie," said his uncle, "that being the case, you can perhaps
enlighten your cousin Willie as to the difference between a colony and
a province."

Had his uncle called upon him to give the difference between Gog and
Magog, Daniel would have made the venture. So he promptly answered,--

"A province is a country, and a colony is the people of it."

Uncle Juvinell would have laughed outright at this answer; but he knew
it would mortify the young historian: so he only smiled, and said,--

"That will do pretty well, Dannie, as far as it goes; but it does not
cover more than an acre of the ground. Now, a colony, you must know,
Willie, is a settlement made by a country--called, in such cases, the
mother-country--in some foreign region at a distance from it, but
belonging to it; as, for example, the English colonies in America,
which are separated from the mother-country, England, by the great
Atlantic Ocean. A province, on the other hand, is a similar extent of
foreign territory, belonging to a nation or a kingdom, either by
conquest or purchase or settlement; and it may also be a division or
district of the kingdom or nation itself. Thus, you see, a foreign
region, settled and owned by the mother-country, may, with nearly
equal propriety, be called either a colony or a province; while one
that belongs to a nation or a kingdom by conquest or purchase is a
province, and nothing else. Thus, for example, Canada is a province of
Great Britain, won from the French by conquest, as you will learn
to-morrow evening. From this you may see, that although a province
may, yet a colony can no more exist within the boundaries of a
mother-country, than can a man live at home and abroad at one and the
same time."

The other children were then called on to produce their notes. Laura
said, that, after she had written two or three, she found she was
losing more than she was gaining; for, when she stopped to take down
any item she wished to remember, she did not hear what came right
after. Ellen chimed in with the same; and Ned said he was not yet out
of his pot-hooks, and couldn't write; but that he was thinking all the
time of getting Willie or Dannie to tell him all about it after they
went to bed. So, what with this excuse, and that, and the other, not a
single note was forthcoming, except a few that Master Charlie, the
knowing young gentleman, had written on a very large slate, in letters
quite of his own inventing, which he now laid before his uncle. To set
off his penmanship to the best advantage, and couple the ornamental
with the useful, he had drawn just above it a picture of Gen.
Braddock, mounted on his dashing white charger, and waving aloft a
sword of monstrous length. One unacquainted with the subject, however,
would sooner have taken it for a big baboon, geared up in a cocked hat
and high military boots, with a mowing-scythe in his hand, and
astraddle of a rearing donkey heavily coated with feathers instead of
hair. The old gentleman's spectacles seemed to twinkle as he ran his
eye over the slate; and after making out two or three rather
savage-looking _s_'s, as many long-legged _p_'s, a squat _h_ or two, a
big bottle-bellied _b_, three or four gigantic _l_'s, a broken-backed
_k_ or two, a high-shouldered _w_, a heavy-bottomed _d_, and a long
slim-tailed _y_, it struck him, at length, that speech-belt, Long
Knife, knapsack, Silver Heels, wigwam, and powder-monkey, were the
items concerning which Master Charlie desired further enlightenment.

"For information touching these matters, my dear Charles," then said
Uncle Juvinell, "I will pass you over to Willie and Dannie, who, I
dare say, are quite as well posted up in matters of this kind, as your
old uncle; for, if I mistake not, they have just been reading Catlin's
book on the Indians, and Gulliver's Travels in Brobdignag."

"How is it," inquired Ellen, "that Washington, being the good man that
he was, could have taken part in that wicked war between the French
and English about a country that didn't belong to either of them, but
to the poor Indians?"

Now, although Uncle Juvinell was satisfied in his own mind that
Washington's conduct in this matter was just what it should have been,
yet, for all that, he was a little puzzled how to answer this question
in a way that the little folks would rightly understand.

"This very thing, my dear niece," replied he after a moment's pause,
"grieved and troubled his mind a great deal, as you may well believe:
but he knew, that, if the English did not get possession of this land,
the French would; and this, by increasing the strength of the enemy,
would by and by endanger the safety of his own native land, and even
the lives and liberties of his countrymen. And he also knew that it
would be far better for the spread of useful knowledge and the true
religion, that all this rich country should be in the hands of some
Christian people, who would make it a place fit to live in, and to be
peaceful and prosperous and happy in, than that it should be left
entirely to those barbarous savages, who only made of it a place to
hunt and to fish in, to fight and scalp, and to burn and torture each
other like devils in. Besides this, it is the duty of every true
patriot (and no one knew this better than he) to serve and defend the
country, under the protection of whose laws he has lived in peace and
plenty, against all her enemies, whether at home or abroad, even
should she now and then be a little in the wrong; for, by so doing, he
defends his own home and family, rights and liberty,--objects that
should be as dear to him as life itself."

"O uncle!" exclaimed Ned with a start, as if he had just caught a
passing recollection by the tail as it was about skedaddling round the
corner, "tell me, will you? what kind of a life a charmed life is."

"Really Ned," cried Uncle Juvinell, "I am very glad that you mentioned
it; for it puts me in mind of something I should have told you before,
and which I might else have forgotten. This, however, is as good a
time as any; and, when you hear what I am now going to tell you, you
will readily understand, without further explanation, what is meant
when it is said of a man that he bears a charmed life about him. To do
this, I must anticipate a little, or, to speak more clearly, take time
by the forelock, and, going forward a little in our story, tell you of
a circumstance which your Uncle Juvinell, when a boy, often heard
related by Dr. Craik, who was then an aged and venerable man.

"Fifteen years after poor Braddock had been laid in his unhonored
grave, Col. Washington, taking with him his friend Dr. Craik, went on
an exploring expedition to the Ohio, in behalf of the brave soldiers
who had served under him at the Great Meadows, and to whom, it must be
remembered, Gov. Dinwiddie had promised two hundred thousand acres of
the best land to be found on this great river or its branches. There
was peace then along the border, and little or no danger was to be
apprehended from the Indians. They travelled in a large canoe, rowed
by two or three hunters; and what with fishing in the streams (for
they took with them their fishing tackle), what with hunting in the
woods (for they took with them their hunting rifles), what with
camping on the green shore at night (for they took with them their
camp utensils), and what with the comfortable thought that there was
not an Indian warrior within a hundred miles whose fingers were
itching for their scalps (for they took with them this and many other
pleasant thoughts besides), they had, you may depend upon it, a
glorious time.

"One day, there came to their camp, at the mouth of the Great Kanawha,
a party of Indians, headed by an old chief of grave and venerable
aspect, who approached Washington with deep reverence, as if entering
the presence of some superior being. After several pipes of tobacco
had been smoked, and several haunches of venison had been eaten,--the
first to show that they had come friendly, the last to show that they
came hungry,--the old chief addressed Washington in a speech, which
your Uncle Juvinell cannot repeat to you word for word as he heard it
from the lips of the worthy old doctor; but he well remembers the
substance thereof, and will give it you as nearly as he can in the
Indian style of oratory.

     "'They came and told me,' began the old chief, 'that the great
     Long Knife was in our country; and I was very glad. I said to
     them, though I be old and feeble, though the way be long, and
     the hills many and high, and the rivers many and wide, yet must
     I go and see him once more before I die; for it is the young
     warrior, whom, years ago, I saw shielded from our bullets by
     the hand of the Great Spirit. Let the pale-faces hear my words.
     Fifteen summers ago, when the woods and thickets were dense and
     green, the French and Indians went out to lay in ambuscade for
     the big English general, among the Monongahela hills. I took my
     warriors, and went along, and we lay in wait together. The
     English were many and strong; we were few and weak: thus we had
     no thought of victory in our minds, but only to give our
     enemies a little trouble, and keep them back a while till the
     big French army came down from the Great Lakes. We saw the
     English army cross the river and come up the hill; yet they
     suspected not. We saw them walk into our snare, up to the very
     muzzles of our guns; nor did they dream of danger, till our
     war-whoop went up, and our bullets began to fly as fast as
     winter hail. I saw the red-coats fall, and strew the ground
     like the red leaves of the woods nipped by an untimely frost,
     and smitten by the unseen hands of a mighty wind. The snows of
     eighty winters have fallen upon my head. I have been in many a
     bloody battle; yet never saw I the red life-stream run as it
     that day ran down Braddock's Hill from English hearts. Listen!
     I saw that day, among the English, a young warrior who was not
     an Englishman. I singled him out as a mark for my rifle; for he
     was tall and strong, and rode grandly, and his presence there
     was a danger to us. Seventeen times did I take slow and steady
     aim, and fire; but my bullets went astray, and found him not.
     Then I pointed him out to my young men, whose eyes were sharper
     and whose hands were steadier than mine, and bade them bring
     him down. It was all in vain: their bullets glanced from him as
     if he had been a rock. I saw two horses fall under him, shot
     dead; yet he rose unhurt. Then did I lay my hand on my mouth in
     wonder, and bade my young men turn their rifles another way;
     for the Great Spirit, I knew, held that young warrior in his
     keeping, and that his anger would be kindled against us if we
     desisted not. That young warrior, the favorite of Heaven, the
     man who is destined never to fall in battle, now stands before
     me. Once more mine eyes have seen him, and I shall now go away
     content.'

"And now, Ned, my boy," said Uncle Juvinell, after he had ended this
oration, "can you tell me what a charmed life is?"

"One that is bullet-proof, I suppose," replied Ned.

"You don't mean to say that Washington was bullet-proof, do you, Uncle
Juve?" put in doubting Charlie.

"No, not exactly that, my little nephew," replied his Uncle Juvinell;
"and yet a great deal more: for, beyond all doubt, an all-wise
Providence raised up George Washington to do the good and great work
that he did, and to this end shielded him when encompassed by the
perils of battle, strengthened him when beset by the wiles of
temptation, and cheered him when visited by the trials of adversity.
Dr. Davis, a famous preacher of that day, seemed to have looked upon
him, as did the old Indian, as one favored of Heaven; for, in a sermon
preached by him a few weeks after Braddock's defeat, he spoke of Col.
Washington as 'that heroic youth, whom, he could not but hope,
Providence had preserved in so signal a manner for some important
service to his country.' And now, my little folks, the clock strikes
nine, and our Christmas logs burn low: so join your old uncle in an
evening hymn; then haste you to your happy beds to sleep and dream the
peaceful night away."




XVIII.

WORK IN EARNEST.


Hardly had the last clod been thrown on poor Braddock's grave, when
his army was seized with a second and most unaccountable panic; for no
one could tell from whence or how it came. With those horrid yells
still sounding in their ears, and those ghastly sights of blood and
carnage still fresh in their memories, they fancied they heard, in
every passing gust that stirred the dead leaves, warning whispers of
the stealthy approach of the dreaded enemy, and that in every waving
thicket he might be lurking for them in ambush.

Col. Dunbar, as next in rank, had, for the time being, taken command
of the troops; but, cowardly as the old general was rash, he shared in
the general panic, and could do nothing to re-assure his men or give
them a little confidence. So, without waiting to know by whose orders,
or if by any at all, they fell to, and destroyed all the heavy
baggage, baggage-wagons, and artillery; every thing, in fact, that
could hinder them in their retreat. Thus disencumbered, they set out
in hot haste; and after a hurried and disorderly march, or rather
flight, they reached Fort Cumberland.

Here Col. Washington, who had taken no part whatever in the
unsoldierly proceedings just mentioned, stopped a few days to recruit
a little after the severe fatigues he had, for a week past, been
called upon to undergo, while still too much enfeebled from his
ten-days' fever. The first use he made of this breathing spell was to
write an affectionate letter to his much-honored mother to ease her
mind of the anxiety he knew she would be feeling on his account, when
rumors of the late disaster should reach her ears. He told her of his
almost miraculous deliverance from a cruel and bloody death, in
language full of gratitude to the God of battles, who had shielded him
in so signal a manner, when his brave comrades were falling by
hundreds around him. Writing to his brother Augustine at the same
time, he wittily says, "Since my arrival at this place, I have heard a
circumstantial account of my death and dying speech; and I take this
early opportunity of contradicting the former, and assuring you that I
have not yet composed the latter."

When he had so far regained his strength as to enable him to travel,
he betook himself once more to the peaceful shades of Mount Vernon. He
re-entered at once upon his duties as Adjutant-General of the Northern
District,--a post he still continued to hold, although his connection
with the regular army had ceased with the death of Braddock.

But we must return for a few moments to Fort Cumberland, where we left
the valorous Col. Dunbar quite out of breath from the uncommonly brisk
speed, which seems to have been his habit now and then, of getting
over very rough and hilly roads. Any soldier, with a spark of manly
spirit under his sword-belt, would have made a resolute stand at a
place of so much importance, and held it to the death, rather than
left the defenceless inhabitants exposed to the horrors of a border
war. Col. Dunbar was not, by any means, the true soldier just hinted
at; and consequently did no such thing. Seeing that the sick and
wounded were but so many clogs to rapid and easy motion, he resolved
to leave them behind under the care of the slender garrison he had
placed in the fort, who were expected to defend it against an enemy
that he, with a force of fifteen hundred strong, had not the courage
to face. Thus rid of his hinderances to the last degree of
lightsomeness, he pushed on by forced marches, as if a legion of
painted savages were yelling at his heels; and never slackened speed
until he found himself safe within the friendly walls of Philadelphia,
where he went into comfortable winter-quarters while yet the dog-days
were at their hottest.

Thus basely deserted by these doughty regulars, who had been sent
over so many thousand miles of salt water for their protection,
the colonists saw with dismay the whole line of their vast frontier,
from Lake Ontario to the Carolinas, open to the inroads of the
French and their Indian allies. In the long-run, however (as you
shall see hereafter), two luckier mishaps than Braddock's defeat
and Dunbar's retreat, that seemed at the time so fraught with evil,
could not have befallen them. They were thereby taught two wholesome
lessons, which they might otherwise have been a long time in learning,
and without which they never could have gained their independence
and made themselves a nation. The first, by proving that British
regulars were not, by any means, the never-to-be-beaten, and the
never-to-be-made-to-skedaddle warriors that they boasted themselves to
be, and that one-half of the Americans were foolish enough to believe
them to be. Thus, when the War of Independence broke out, our
Revolutionary fathers remembered this, and were not afraid to meet the
English even on such unequal terms. The second, by opening their eyes
to the fact, that, as they (the colonists) could no longer look to the
mother-country for protection, they must henceforward rely upon their
own strength and resources for their defence and safety.

The people of Virginia, seeing the forlorn condition of things, were
at last awakened to a full sense of the danger that threatened, not
only their back settlements, but even the heart of the Old Dominion
itself. They therefore began to bestir themselves in right good
earnest to put the province in a better posture of defence; and, to
this end, resolved to send more troops into the field, raise more
money, procure new arms and fresh supplies of military stores, and
erect a chain of twenty block-houses, or small forts, stretching along
the whole line of their frontier, from Pennsylvania to North
Carolina,--a distance of three hundred and sixty miles. Washington's
career as a soldier had not, up to this time, been marked by any of
those daring and brilliant exploits that charm and dazzle vulgar
minds; but had, on the contrary, been one unbroken train of
misfortunes and disasters. Notwithstanding this, however, the
confidence his countrymen had placed in his prudence, courage,
ability, and patriotism, so far from having been diminished thereby,
had gone on steadily gaining strength from the very beginning. They
well knew, that, had the headstrong and unlucky Braddock given heed to
his prudent and timely counsel, the late campaign could never have
ended in the disgraceful and disastrous manner that it had. As the
most flattering proof of their esteem and confidence, they now turned
to him in their hour of peril, and, although he was not yet
twenty-four years of age, called upon him, as with one voice, to take
the chief command of all the forces of the province. After some
deliberation, being persuaded that it was really their earnest desire,
he modestly accepted the appointment, on condition that certain
changes should be made in the military, and that he should be allowed
to choose his field-officers. This was readily agreed to by the
Virginia House of Burgesses; who, in addition, voted him fifteen
hundred dollars by way of compensating him for the many losses he had
suffered, in horses, baggage, and money since the beginning of the
war.

Accordingly, early in the autumn, he took up his headquarters at the
frontier town of Winchester, beyond the Blue Ridge, in the beautiful
Valley of the Shenandoah. As four great highways met here from as many
different quarters of the country, it was a post of much importance;
and he resolved, by strongly fortifying it, to make it the
rallying-point of all the border. His men were all raw recruits, just
taken from the plough or forge or carpenter's bench, as the case might
be; and, to render them fit for the peculiar service in which they
were to be employed, it became his duty, besides training them in the
regular military exercises, to instruct them in the arts and
stratagems of Indian warfare, or bush-fighting, as it is more aptly
called. Long, however, before he was ready to take the field, the
French and Indians, made daring and audacious by their great victory
on the Monongahela, had crossed the mountains at several different
points in great numbers, and had already begun their bloody work. The
terrified and defenceless inhabitants dwelling in the distant parts of
the wilderness now came flocking to the Shenandoah Valley for
protection from the merciless enemy, some of them never stopping till
they had passed on over to the eastern <DW72>s of the Blue Ridge.

One morning, a rumor found its way to Winchester, that a large party
of Indians were within twelve miles of that place, pillaging, burning,
and murdering at a frightful rate. Straightway a great fear fell upon
the inhabitants. Little children ran, and hid their faces in their
mothers' aprons, crying piteously; women ran hither and thither,
screaming, and wringing their hands; and broad-shouldered,
double-fisted men stood stock-still, and shook in their moccasins.
Washington tried to prevail upon some of his soldiers to sally out
with him, and drive the enemy back from the valley; but, being
strangers to military obedience, not a leather-shirt of all the rabble
could he get to venture beyond the ditches. When he put them in mind
of what was expected of them as men and soldiers, they only answered,
that, if they must die, they would rather stay there, and die with
their wives and families. Having a lurking suspicion, that, after all,
there might be more smoke than fire in these flying rumors, he sent
out a scout to bring him some more certain tidings of the matter. In a
wonderfully short time, the scout came back, pale and affrighted, with
the dismal intelligence that he had, with his own ears, heard the guns
and yells of the Indians not four miles distant, and that Winchester
would be beset by the savages in less than an hour. Whereupon
Washington made another appeal to the courage and manhood of his men;
which proved so far successful, that a forlorn hope of forty finally
screwed up pluck enough to follow him to the scene of danger. Moving
with great caution and circumspection, and keeping all their ears and
eyes about them, the party came at length to the spot mentioned by the
scout; where, sure enough, they heard a somewhat scattering discharge
of fire-arms, and divers outlandish noises, that bore, however, but a
very slight resemblance to the terrific yells and whoops of Indian
warriors. Advancing a few paces farther, a sudden turn of the road
brought them in sight of two drunken soldiers, who were cursing and
swearing and hallooing in a manner quite outrageous and immoral; and
now and then, by way of adding a little spice to this part of their
entertainment, firing off their pistols into the tree-tops. And this
it was that had given rise to those wild rumors that had thrown the
whole country into such a terrible panic. To this imprudent waste of
breath and ammunition, the latter of which they had but little enough
to spare, Washington put a rather sudden stop by ordering the lively
young blades to be seized, and carried as prisoners to Winchester,
where he kept them in severe confinement for more than a week after
they had regained their sober senses. All this was ludicrous enough;
and you may be sure that Washington, although grave and dignified
beyond his years, had a hearty laugh over it the first time he found
himself alone with one or two of his brother-officers.

In addition to his other cares, the duties of his office required him
to visit, from time to time, the several forts along the frontier, to
see that those already finished were kept in fighting order, and give
directions for the proper construction of those still under way. Now,
the little garrison of forty men, that Col. Dunbar had left to hold
and defend Fort Cumberland against the combined armies of the French
and Indians, was commanded by a certain Dagworthy, who, pluming
himself upon the king's commission as captain, refused to own the
authority and render obedience to the orders of Washington, who held
only a governor's commission as colonel. It will be remembered, that
Washington had a similar misunderstanding with Capt. Mackay, eighteen
months before, at the Great Meadows, touching this same question of
rank between royal and provincial officers, which had caused him great
trouble and annoyance. Matters had now come to such a pass, that a
little upstart captain of forty men could set at naught the authority
of the commander-in-chief of the forces of a whole province, merely
because he could boast a bit of paper embellished with the king's
name. This was a degradation too grievous to be longer borne by a
manly, independent spirit. Though sorely vexed and annoyed, Washington
had too much self-respect and prudence to make a noise about the
matter; but he inwardly resolved, that, as soon as the coming-on of
winter would oblige the Indians to recross the mountains to the
shelter of their homes beyond, he would take advantage of the
breathing spell thus allowed him to make a journey to Boston, there to
submit the question for final settlement to Gen. Shirley, who had
succeeded Braddock to the chief command of all the British forces in
America.

Accordingly, when the departure of the Indians brought the distressed
inhabitants of the border the prospect of a few months' peace and
quiet, he departed for Boston, in company with two of his
brother-officers, Capts. Stewart and Mercer.

Now, in those days, a journey from the Old Dominion to the Bay City, a
distance of but five hundred miles, in the depth of winter, when the
roads were either deep and stiff with mire, or rough and knobby with
frost, was really a greater undertaking than a voyage in a steamship
from Boston to Constantinople would now be considered. Our young men
travelled on horseback, as was the fashion of the day; and took with
them their <DW64> servants, who, riding behind with their masters'
saddle-bags and portmanteaus, and dressed in fine livery, with gold
lace on their fur hats, and blue cloaks, gave quite an air of style
and consequence to the little cavalcade.

Washington's fame had long since gone before him, as was proved by the
marked distinction and respect with which he was treated at
Philadelphia, New York, and other places along the route. All were
eager to behold with their own eyes the youthful hero, whose gallant
conduct and wonderful escape at the defeat of Braddock had been so
noised throughout the Colonies; and when we add to this his tall and
commanding form, the manly beauty of his face, his dignified bearing,
his rich and handsome dress, and the unequalled skill with which he
managed his large and noble horse, we cannot wonder at the interest
and admiration his appearance awakened in the minds of all who saw
him.

When he got to Boston, where he likewise met with a flattering
reception, he lost no time in making known to Gen. Shirley the
business that had taken him thither. The justness and reasonableness
of his complaints were promptly acknowledged by this officer, who, to
place the vexed question beyond dispute, declared, that henceforward
Capt. Dagworthy and all inferior officers, holding king's commissions,
should own the authority and render obedience to the orders of all
provincial officers of superior rank. This, the main object of his
journey, thus happily disposed of, Col. Washington set out on his
return to Virginia: but, knowing that the Indian war-whoop was not
likely soon to be heard in the Shenandoah Valley, he indulged himself
so far as to tarry two whole weeks at New-York City; and for the best
of reasons, as I will tell you.

On his way to Boston, he had met here with the beautiful and
accomplished Miss Phillipps, with whom he was vastly pleased; and it
was for the nearer study of this young lady's charms, and further
cultivation of her acquaintance, that our young Virginia colonel was
now tempted for once in his life thus to linger on his way. Nothing
came of it, however, that anybody now can tell; although the lady, you
may stake your heads upon it, must and ought to have been highly
flattered at being thus singled out by the young hero whose name and
praise were in everybody's mouth. Perhaps his admiration never ripened
into love; and, if it did, his modesty, as in the case of the Lowland
Beauty, must have hindered him from making known his partiality.
Whatever it may have been, it is, at this late day, of little
consequence; for long before that year had passed away, with all its
anxious cares, its perils and privations, and with all its train of
ghastly Indian horrors, these tender sentiments had become to him
nothing more than pleasant memories.




XIX.

DARK DAYS.


It were long to tell you, my dear children, all that happened to
Washington, and all that he did for the next two or three years of his
life. I shall, therefore, in as brief and clear a manner as may be,
present to your minds a picture simply of those scenes in which he
figured as the chief actor; although there were, it must be
remembered, others who played a far more important part in this old
French War than our young Virginia colonel.

The French and Indians, early in the spring of these years, were wont
to cross the mountains at different points, and for months together
follow their usual programme of fire, plunder, and massacre, till the
approach of winter, when, loaded with booty and scalps, they would go
as they had come, only to return on the opening of the following
spring. With these cruel savages, and their scarcely less cruel white
allies, neither age nor sex found mercy; old men, tender women, and
helpless children, alike falling victims to their murderous tomahawks
and scalping-knives. Farms were laid waste, crops destroyed, cattle
butchered; and often, for days and nights together, the smoke could be
seen in many directions at once, as it rose from burning barns and
dwellings, and hung like a pall over the ill-fated land. At last, so
great became the audacity of these pestilent savages, that they
carried their depredations within cannon range of the very walls of
Winchester; and, under their destroying hand, the rich and beautiful
Valley of the Shenandoah seemed likely soon again to become a waste
and desert place. It was a boast of theirs, that they could take any
fort that could be fired; and round these places of refuge they would
skulk and lurk with the greatest patience for a week at a time, quite
content could they but get a single shot at such of the garrison as
dared to show themselves beyond shelter of the walls. Sometimes,
suddenly darting from their hiding-place, they would pounce upon
little children playing in the woods, and, in full view of the fort,
bear them away captives, never more to be seen by their bereaved
parents, who could only listen in helpless anguish to the piteous
cries of their little innocents, that grew fainter and fainter as
their savage captors hurried them farther and farther into the gloomy
depths of the wilderness.

Often, in their excursions along the frontier, Washington and his men
would come upon the still smoking ruins of a happy home, or the hacked
and mangled body of an unfortunate traveller who had been waylaid and
murdered by the Indians in some lonely mountain glen. In after-life,
the recollection of these harrowing scenes was to Washington so
painful, that he could but seldom be brought to speak of them. Now and
then, however, he would relate to a few friends some of these dark
experiences; among which is the following, given in his own words, as
a fair example of all the rest:--

     "One day," said he, "as we were traversing a part of the
     frontier, we came upon a small log-house, standing in the
     centre of a little clearing, surrounded by woods on all sides.
     As we approached, we heard the report of a gun,--the usual
     signal of coming horror. Our party crept cautiously through the
     underwood, until we had approached near enough to see what we
     had already foreboded. A smoke was slowly making its way
     through the roof of the house; when, at the same time, a party
     of Indians came forth, laden with plunder,--consisting of
     clothes, household furniture, domestic utensils, and dripping
     scalps. We fired, and killed all but one, who tried to get
     away, but was soon overtaken and shot down. Upon entering the
     hut, there met us a sight, which, though we were familiar with
     scenes of blood and massacre, struck us--at least myself--with
     feelings more mournful than I had ever experienced before. On a
     bed, in one corner of the room, lay the body of a young woman,
     swimming in blood, with a gash in the forehead that almost
     separated the head into two parts. On her breast lay two little
     babes, less than a twelvemonth old, also with their heads cut
     open; their innocent blood, that had once flowed in one common
     vein, now mingling in the same current again. I was inured to
     scenes of bloodshed and misery; but this cut me to the heart;
     and never in my after-life did I raise my arm against a savage,
     without calling to mind the mother and her little twins with
     their heads cleft asunder. On examining the tracks of the
     Indians to see what other murders they might have committed, we
     found a little boy, and, a few steps forward, his father, both
     scalped, and both stone-dead. From the prints of the boy's
     feet, it seemed that he had been following the plough with his
     father, whom he had probably seen shot down; and, in attempting
     to escape, had been pursued, overtaken, and murdered. The ruin
     was complete: not one of the family had been spared. Such was
     the character of this miserable warfare. The wretched people of
     the frontier never went to rest without bidding each other
     farewell; for the chances were they might never wake again, or
     wake only to find their last sleep. When leaving one spot for
     the purpose of giving protection to another point of exposure,
     the scene was often such as I shall never forget. The women and
     children would cling around our knees, and mothers would hold
     up their little babes before our eyes, begging us to stay and
     protect them, and, for God's sake, not leave them to be
     butchered by the savages. A hundred times, I declare to Heaven,
     I would have laid down my life with pleasure under the tomahawk
     and scalping-knife, could I, by the sacrifice, have insured the
     safety of these suffering people."

The little folks can well imagine how scenes like these must have
pained and wrung a heart like Washington's. But what could he do? His
whole force did not exceed one thousand fighting men; with which he
had to man more than twenty forts, and guard a frontier of nearly four
hundred miles' extent. In addition to this, his men had been so
scattered all the while at these different points, as to have placed
it altogether beyond his power to give that attention to their
military training which he had had so near at heart when he first
entered upon his command. It naturally followed, then, that there was
among the greater number an almost total want of order and discipline.
They came and went when and where it suited their humor best; were
impatient of control; wasted their ammunition, of which there was a
great scarcity, in target-shooting; were far more ready to trouble
their officers with good advice than aid them by prompt obedience to
orders; and, if their sagacious counsels went unheeded, they would,
without more ado, shoulder their rifles in high dudgeon, and tramp
home. And, withal, so tender were they of what they were pleased to
call their _honor_, that they would take it as quite an insult to be
put on soldiers' rations; and were too proud or lazy--which with them
was the same thing--to carry their own provisions while on the march;
choosing, rather, to risk what chance might bring them, in the shape
of bullocks, sheep, or pigs, which they would knock down, without a
"By your leave" to the owner, and, after eating as much as satisfied
their present hunger, would throw the rest away. Thus, between their
wasteful defenders and their wasting invaders, the poor distressed
inhabitants were brought to the verge of starvation.

The forts were too far apart to prevent the Indians from passing
between; and the garrisons were too weak to lend each other aid when
any of them chanced to be in hard, besetting need. This plan of giving
defence to the border had been strongly opposed by Washington, who
foresaw the disadvantages just hinted at, and had urged the exact
contrary. This was, instead of having so many small forts, with but a
handful of men in each, to fortify Winchester in the completest manner
possible, with a view of making it the only stronghold and
rallying-point of all the border, and to be manned by the main body of
the troops, who were to give support to the smaller parties in their
excursions against the enemy. Long before the war was ended, it was
clearly to be seen, that, had this plan been adopted, much useless
expenditure of money and shedding of blood would have been avoided. As
it was, the cunning and watchful foe, whose motions were swift as the
birds, and secret as death, could pass between these forts, not only
unopposed, but even unobserved, and, without let or hinderance, lay
waste the country for the protection of which they had been built.
Under this most melancholy state of things, all the region west of the
Blue Ridge was fast becoming the dreary and silent wilderness it had
been in days gone by. Scarcely a shadow of its former population was
left: some had fled to the forts for refuge; some had resettled in the
eastern parts of the province; some had been carried away into cruel
captivity; and many, very many, had met with a horrible death at the
hands of the merciless invaders.

As if all this we have just related were not enough to try the
patience and fortitude of young Washington, evil reports, injurious to
his character, and charging him with being the author of all these
failures and calamities, were set agoing by secret enemies at home.
Foremost among these, you will be surprised and sorry to learn, was
Gov. Dinwiddie, who had for some time past regarded with a jealous and
envious eye this rising hope of the land, and was now seeking, by a
variety of underhand means, to have him disgraced from the service,
that Col. Innez, a particular chum of his, might be advanced to the
chief command of the Virginia troops instead. The lower offices of the
army he was zealous to bestow upon a knot of needy adventurers, who,
being Scotchmen like himself, were in high favor with him, and
scrupled not to make his likes and dislikes their own, if, by so
doing, they could further their own private advantage. Perhaps Gov.
Dinwiddie himself may not have been the direct author of these
reports; but it is quite certain that his hungry hangers-on would
never have dared whisper them had they not been fully aware of the
ill-will he bore the person by whose injury they hoped to profit, and
that they had but to do the thing, when their patron would not only
wink at it, but even give it his secret approval.

When these malicious whisperings came to the ears of Washington, he
was stung to the quick by such unfair and unmerited treatment. Feeling
assured in his own conscience that he had done his whole duty as far
as in him lay, all his strong and manly nature was roused to indignant
anger, that his fair name should thus become the target of these
arrows flying in the dark, without an opportunity being allowed him of
a fair and open hearing in his own defence. He would have left the
service at once,--the very end his enemies had been plotting so hard
to bring about,--had not the frontier settlements, just at that
moment, been threatened with more than usual peril; and to have
deserted his post at such a time would have given his accusers real
grounds for the charges, which heretofore had been but a mere
pretence. Before the immediate danger was past that kept him at his
post, many of his warmest and most influential friends, residing in
different parts of the province, had written to him, earnestly
entreating him not to think of resigning his command; assuring him, at
the same time, that the base slanders of those evil-minded men had
found no place whatever in the minds of his fellow-countrymen. On the
contrary, beholding the courage, patience, and humanity with which he
was discharging the high and sacred duties they had intrusted to him,
they felt their love for him, and confidence in him, increasing every
day. With this gratifying assurance that his conduct and motives were
rightly understood by those whose approbation he was most desirous of
winning, Washington now held on his course with renewed hope and
spirit.

Thenceforward, Gov. Dinwiddie, as if to revenge himself for this
failure of his base and selfish design, never let an opportunity slip
of thwarting or annoying the man whose high public character his petty
malice could not reach, and whose private worth his mean envy could
not tarnish. His letters to Washington, the tone of which heretofore
had been uncivil enough, now became harsh and insolent, full of
fault-finding, and bristling all over with biting reproofs and unmanly
insinuations. Although wretchedly ignorant of military matters, and at
a distance from the seat of active operations, yet he must needs take
upon himself the full control of all the troops of the province,
without seeming to trouble his mind as to what might be the wishes and
opinions of him who was in fact their true leader. Whether from a
spiteful desire to perplex the object of his dislike, or natural
fickleness of character, every letter from him brought with it some
new plan. To-day, he ordered this; to-morrow, he ordered that; and,
the next day, upset the other two by something quite different from
either: so that Washington was often left completely in the dark as
to what the uncertain meddler's wishes or plans really were.

At last, from being thus harassed in mind by these petty annoyances,
and worn in body by the hardships of such rough service, his health
failed him; and he was advised to repair to Mount Vernon, and there
remain until his disease should take a more favorable turn. Here he
lay for four long, weary months, before he could rejoin big regiment;
during much of which time, his friends, who nursed and watched him,
really regarded his recovery as doubtful. This is another instance of
what so often seems to us a matter of wonder,--the power of a
narrow-minded, mean-spirited, ill-tempered, false-hearted man to
inflict pain on a noble and lofty nature.

A short time before the close of the war, it becoming quite certain
that he had been putting public money, intrusted to his keeping, to
private or dishonorable uses, Gov. Dinwiddie was recalled, and another
sent over to fill his place. Being the man here described, and a petty
tyrant withal, nobody was sorry to see him go, except the needy
toadies who had hung about him, and who, seeing that nothing was
likely to turn up for them in the New World, packed off to Scotland
with their patron, as hungry and empty-handed as they came.

By the by, I must not forget to tell you of the heroic conduct of old
Lord Fairfax. Greenway Court, as you no doubt remember, was in the
Shenandoah Valley, not many miles from Winchester; and, situated on
the very edge of a vast forest, was quite open to the inroads of the
Indians, any one of whom, would have risked limb or life to get his
bloody clutches on the gray scalp of so renowned a Long Knife. To meet
this danger, as well as do his part towards the general defence, he
mustered his hunters and <DW64> servants, to the number of a hundred or
thereabouts, and formed them at his own expense into a company of
horse, with which the keen old fox-hunter, now as daring a trooper,
scoured the country from time to time, and did good service.




XX.

A NEW ENTERPRISE.


And thus these melancholy years came and went, with all their dark and
painful experiences. A firm and self-reliant spirit like Washington's,
however, could not be long cast down by even severer trials than those
by which we have just seen his strength and manhood tested: so, from
that time forward, come what might, he resolved to hold right on, nor
bate a jot of heart or hope or zeal or patience, till the coming-on of
better days, when, God willing, he might render a good and faithful
account of this, his country's trust.

But the little folks must not suppose that Col. Washington and Gov.
Dinwiddie were by any means the only persons of consequence who
figured in this Old French War. On the contrary, there were others of
far more importance at the time than they, not so much from any
peculiar merit of their own, as from the part they played in those
events; and upon whom, as such, I must needs bestow some passing
notice, were it but to give to our story greater clearness and
completeness. What concerns you to know of them at present I will
briefly sum up in a few words, and make it as plain to you as a table
of simple addition.

As Commander-in-chief of all the British forces in America, Braddock,
as I have told you elsewhere, was succeeded by Gen. Shirley; who,
proving himself unfit for the place, was soon recalled, and Lord
Loudoun sent over from England instead; who, proving himself equally
unfit, was dealt with in the same manner, and Gen. Abercrombie sent
over instead; who also, proving himself incompetent, was also
recalled, and Gen. Amherst sent over; who, proving a wiser choice,
there followed happier results; and it fell to him, and to the brave
young general, Wolfe, his next in rank, to bring this long and irksome
war, in due course of time, to a glorious end. After the failure of
Braddock's designs against Fort Duquesne, the conquest of Canada was
made the chief object of the British Government; and the regions of
the North thenceforth became the seat of war. While our young Virginia
colonel, making the best use of the slender means allowed him, was
struggling to keep back the pestilent savages and their pestilent
white allies from his long line of frontier in the South and West,
some of these leaders with their red allies, and some of the French
leaders with their red allies, were, with various fortunes and
misfortunes on either side, carrying on the war along the borders of
the great Lake Ontario, the little Lakes Champlain and George, and up
and down the mighty St. Lawrence.

Of these English leaders, I will mention Lord Loudoun merely, as being
the only one with whom Washington had any special dealings. Had this
nobleman come up to the hopes and expectations which many of the
colonists were at first wild enough to entertain respecting him, he
would have regained what Braddock had lost, overrun and conquered
Canada, and made a clean finish of the whole French empire in America,
in less than six months' time. They soon discovered, however, that he
was one of those unlucky persons, who, knowing much, seldom know what
use to make of their knowledge; who, having no will that they can call
their own, can never turn the will of others to any good or seasonable
purpose; and who, making a great show of doing, have never any thing
to show in the end what they have done. In this last particular, Dr.
Franklin, with that peculiar humor all his own, likened him to the
picture of St. George on the sign, that was always on horseback, but
never riding on.

Now, the recapture of Fort Duquesne, ever since the disgraceful
failure of that first attempt, had been the one object nearest to
Washington's heart. Foreseeing that there could never be peace or
safety for the back settlements of the middle provinces so long as
this stronghold of the enemy sent out its savage swarms to scourge
and waste the border, he had repeatedly called Lord Loudoun's
attention to the fact, and most earnestly urged its seizure as the
only remedy. It was not, however, until early in the autumn of 1758,
that an expedition, having for its object his long-cherished scheme,
was set on foot. It was undertaken with a force of three thousand
Pennsylvanians, twelve hundred North Carolinians, Washington's
detachment of nineteen hundred Virginians, seven hundred Indians, and
a few hundred regulars,--numbering in all seven thousand men, or
thereabouts,--with Gen. Forbes for their chief commander.

As an easy and rapid communication between the back settlements of
Virginia and Pennsylvania would greatly lessen the difficulties of the
coming campaign, this officer caused a road to be opened between Fort
Cumberland and Raystown, a frontier post of the last-named province,
where he had fixed his headquarters. Before the expedition could be
put in motion, it was necessary that Col. Washington should go to
Williamsburg to make known to the Virginia Legislature the needy
condition of his soldiers, and make a call upon them for fresh
supplies of tents, blankets, clothing, wagons, arms, &c.

Accordingly, attended by his trusty <DW64> servant Bishop, and mounted
on his splendid white charger,--both of which had been bequeathed to
him by poor Braddock,--he set out on his journey, which proved an
eventful one indeed to him, as you shall directly see. At the ferry of
the Pamunkey, a branch of York River, he fell in with Mr. Chamberlin,
an acquaintance of his, who, according to the hospitable customs of
those good old times, invited him to call at his house, not far
distant, and be his honored guest till morning. The young colonel
would be only too happy to do so: but the nature of his business was
such as would not admit of an hour's delay; indeed, it was quite out
of the question, and he must hasten on. But, his friend repeating the
invitation in a manner too earnest to be mistaken, he felt it would be
uncourteous to refuse; and consented to stop and dine with him; on
condition, however, that he should be allowed to proceed on his
journey that same evening. At his friend's hospitable mansion he met
with a gay and brilliant throng of ladies and gentlemen, who, though
strangers to him, knew him well by reputation, and were but too proud
to be thus unexpectedly thrown in his company. Among them was Mrs.
Martha Custis, a young and beautiful widow of good family and large
fortune. Her husband had died three years before; leaving her with two
small children, a girl and a boy. She is said to have been a lady of
most winning and engaging manners, and of an excellent and cultivated
understanding. In stature she was a little below middle size, and of a
round and extremely well-proportioned form; which, on this occasion,
was set off to the best advantage by a dress of rich blue silk. Her
hair was dark; her features were pleasing and regular; and there was a
look of earnest, womanly softness in her hazel eyes, that found its
way at once to the heart and confidence of all on whom it chanced to
rest.

The little folks will not, I hope, suffer their admiration and respect
for our young hero to be lessened in the least, if I tell them, that,
like the rest of mankind who came within the magic circle of those
bewitching charms, he was first surprised into admiration, and then
led, whether or no, at a single step, into the enchanted realms of
love. You have seen, how that, in his boyhood, he wrote broken-hearted
verses to his Lowland Beauty; and how that, two or three years before,
he had nearly yielded himself captive to the beautiful Miss Phillipps:
which ought to prove to the satisfaction of all reasonable minds, that
Washington, like other men, had a heart of real human flesh, that now
and then gave him not a little trouble, despite that grave and
dignified reserve which hung about him like a spell, and, even at that
early age, was something to many quite overawing. The dinner, that had
at first, in his hurry, seemed so long in coming on, seemed now quite
as fast in going off. Not that I would have you suppose by this, that
he thought the guests were showing any indecent haste to make way with
the dishes that were set before them without number, and heaped up
without measure, on Mr. Chamberlin's ample board. On the contrary,
they partook of the good things of the table with a well-bred
slowness, that would have been beyond his endurance to bear, had Mars
been thundering with his iron fist at the gates of his fortress. But
as it was Cupid, only tapping with his rosy knuckles at the casement
of his heart, that dinner seemed no longer to him than, no, not half
so long indeed as, the shortest snack he had ever eaten on horseback
in the hurry of a forced march. The dinner over, Washington seemed in
no haste to depart.

The trusty Bishop, knowing well what a punctual man his master always
was, had appeared, according to orders, with the horses; and was
plainly enough to be seen from the parlor window, had any one cared to
look that way, patiently waiting with them in the pleasant shade of an
apple-tree. The fiery white charger soon began to paw the ground,
impatient at his master's unwonted tardiness; but no rider came.
Bishop Braddock shifted his place once, twice, thrice, to keep himself
and horses in the shade of the apple-tree; but still his master
lingered: and the ivory grin that settled by degrees on his ebony mug
showed that he had a sly suspicion of what was going on in the house.
The afternoon sped away as if old Time, all of a sudden forgetting his
rheumatism, had reached sunset at a single stride. Of course, they
would not suffer him to depart at this late hour: so Bishop was
ordered to restable the horses, and make himself easy and snug for the
night with the  folks down at their quarters. The next morning,
the sun was hours on his journey to the west, before our love-smitten
hero was on his way to Williamsburg.

Once in the saddle, however, all his yesterday's impatience returned
upon him with redoubled force; and, giving his fiery white charger the
spur, he dashed away at a break-neck speed on the road to the Virginia
capital. It is said, so fast did he travel on that day, that, to keep
up with him, Bishop Braddock ran serious risk of having his woolly nob
shaken from his shoulders by the high, hard trotter he rode; and so
sore was he made by the jolting he got, that, for a week thereafter,
it was quite as much as he could do to bring his legs together. This
last, by the way, is merely traditional, and must be received by the
little folks with some caution.

Luckily, the White House, the residence of Mrs. Custis, was situated
within a very few miles of Williamsburg; which gave young Washington
many opportunities, during his two-weeks' stay at that place, of
seeing her, and still further cultivating her acquaintance.
Experience, that sage teacher who never spoke to him in vain, had
taught him, that although there are many blessings of this world which
seem to come of their own accord, yet there are a few that never come
except at the asking for; and the chiefest of these is woman's love.
So, resolving to profit by this knowledge, he did precisely what any
wise and reasonable man would have done in his place,--overcame his
troublesome bashfulness, and made the lady an offer of marriage; which
she, precisely as any wise and reasonable woman would have done in her
place, modestly accepted. The business that had called him to
Williamsburg being at last disposed of, Washington took leave of his
intended, after it had been agreed between them to keep up an
interchange of letters until the close of the present campaign, when
they were to be united in the holy bonds of wedlock.

Upon his return to Winchester, he was dismayed to find that the
English generals had taken it into their inexperienced heads to cut a
new road from Raystown to Fort Duquesne by the way of Laurel Hill,
instead of marching there at once by the old Braddock Road, as he
naturally supposed had been their intention from the beginning.
Foreseeing the consequences, he, in an earnest and forcible manner,
hastened to represent to them the difficulties and disadvantages of
such an undertaking. Cold weather would be setting in, he urged, long
before they could cut their way through so many miles of that mountain
wilderness to the point in question; and they would be obliged either
to winter at Laurel Hill, or fall back upon the settlements until
spring. This would give the enemy time to get full intelligence of
their threatened danger, and send to Canada for re-enforcements. Their
Indian allies too, as was their wont, would grow impatient at the long
delay that must needs attend this plan if carried out; and, returning
to their homes in disgust, would fail to render to the expedition
their valuable services as scouts and spies, as had been expected of
them. On the other hand, by taking the old road, they could march
directly to the fort; which, being at that time but feebly garrisoned,
must fall almost without a blow, and this, too, in less than half the
time, and with less than half the trouble and expense. This prudent
counsel, coming from one, who, from his knowledge of the country, had
so good a right to give it, was nevertheless overruled. The English
generals had gathered a most appalling idea of the difficulties and
dangers of this route from the account Braddock had given of it in his
letters. He had therein described it as lying through a region where
the mountains were of the highest and steepest, the forests of the
thickest and tallest, the rocks of the most huge and rugged, the
swamps of the deepest, and the torrents of the swiftest. The route for
the new road, on the contrary, according to the Pennsylvanians, who
saw in it a great advantage to themselves, lay through a region where
the mountains were not by far so lofty, the woods so thick, the rocks
so huge, the swamps so deep, nor the streams so swift, or half so
given to running rampant over their banks. All these advantages this
route had, besides being fifty miles shorter. So, under the mistaken
notion that more was to be gained by following a short road that would
take them a long time in getting over, than by following a long one
that would take them but a short time in getting over, they resolved
to cut the new road.

This was a sore disappointment to Col. Washington; for he saw in it a
likelihood of Braddock's folly being played all over again, and that,
too, on a still larger scale. The tidings of glorious victories won by
British arms in the North had filled the whole country with triumph
and rejoicing, that rendered him all the more impatient at the
tardiness with which their own expedition was moving forward. "He
wished to rival the successes of the North by some brilliant blow in
the South. Perhaps a desire for personal distinction in the eyes of
the lady of his choice may have been at the bottom of his impatience."
This last, it is but fair to say, is an assertion of our great
countryman, Washington Irving; who, being a wise and learned
historian, would not have made it, you may be sure, had not his deep
insight into the workings of the human heart given him a perfect right
so to do. If this be not enough to convince you that such was really
the case, know that your Uncle Juvinell is entirely of the same
opinion.




XXI.

MORE BLUNDERING.


At last, about the middle of September, the expedition was set in
motion. Gen. Forbes sent Col. Boquet in advance, with nearly two
thousand men, to open and level the road. In order to get more certain
information touching the condition of the enemy,--his number,
strength, and probable designs,--it was thought advisable by some of
the officers to send out a large party of observation in the direction
of Fort Duquesne. It was to be made up of British regulars, Scotch
Highlanders, and Pennsylvania and Virginia rangers,--eight hundred
picked men in all. Washington strongly disapproved the plan, on the
ground that the regulars, being wholly unacquainted with the Indian
mode of fighting, and unable to operate at so great a distance without
taking with them a cumbrous train of baggage, would prove a
hinderance, instead of a furtherance, to an enterprise which must
needs owe its success to the caution, silence, secrecy, and swiftness
on the part of those engaged. He therefore advised the sending-out of
small companies of rangers and Indian hunters, who, knowing the
country well, could spy out the enemy with less risk of detection to
themselves, and, moving without baggage, could make far better speed
with the tidings they may have gathered. The like advice, you may
remember, he gave to Braddock. It met with a like reception, and the
like disaster was the consequence.

The party set out from Laurel Hill, and began its tedious tramp across
the fifty miles of wilderness that lay between that point and Fort
Duquesne. It was headed by Major Grant, a noisy, blustering braggart,
who, hankering after notoriety rather than seeking praise for duty
well and faithfully done, went beyond the limits of his instructions;
which were simply to find out all he could about the enemy, without
suffering the enemy to find out more than he could help about himself,
and, by all possible means, to avoid a battle. But, instead of
conducting the expedition with silence and circumspection, he marched
along in so open and boisterous a manner, as made it appear he meant
to give the enemy timely notice of his coming, and bully him into an
attack even while yet on the way. The French, keeping themselves well
informed, by their spies, of his every movement, suffered him to
approach almost to their very gates without molestation. When he got
in the neighborhood of the fort, he posted himself on a hill
overlooking it, and began throwing up intrenchments in full view of
the garrison. As if all this were not imprudence enough, and as if
bent on provoking the enemy to come out and give him battle on the
instant, whether or no, he sent down a party of observation to spy out
yet more narrowly the inside plan and defences of the fort; who were
suffered not only to do this, but even to burn a house just outside
the walls, and then return to their intrenchments, without a hostile
sign betokening the unseen foe so silent yet watchful within.

Early the next morning, as if to give the enemy warning of the
threatened danger, the drums of the regulars beat the _reveille_, and
the bagpipes of the Highlanders woke the forest-echoes far and wide
with their wild and shrilly din. All this time, not a gun had been
fired from the fort. The deathly silence that reigned within was
mistaken for fear, and made the fool-hardy Grant so audacious as to
fancy that he had but to raise his finger, and the fort must fall. As
Braddock's day had begun with martial parade and music, so likewise
did this. As on that day the regulars were sent in advance, while the
Virginians were left in the rear to guard the baggage, so was likewise
done on this. On this day, as on that, not an enemy was to be seen,
till, all of a sudden, a quick and heavy firing was opened upon them
by Indians lurking in ambush on either side; while, at the same
moment, the French flung open their gates, and, rushing out, mingled
their loud shouts with the horrid yells of their savage allies. On
this day, as had been done on that, the regulars, surprised,
bewildered, panic-stricken, were thrown at once into disorder, and
began firing their pieces at random, killing friend as well as foe.
Unlike them, however, the Highlanders stood their ground like men,
and, fighting bravely, cheered each other with their slogan, or wild
battle-cry. On this day, as on that, the Virginians came up in the
very nick of time to rescue the helpless regulars from utter
destruction. On this, as on Braddock's day, the Indians, seeing the
hopeless confusion into which the English had fallen, rushed out from
their ambush with yells of triumph, and fell upon them, tomahawk and
scalping-knife in hand. Major Lewis, the brave leader of the
Virginians, fought hand to hand with a tall warrior, whom he laid dead
at his feet; but, soon overpowered by numbers, he was forced to
surrender himself to a French officer, who received his sword. The
blustering Grant, more lucky than the headstrong Braddock, saved his
life by yielding himself up in like manner.

And now the rout became general, and the slaughter dreadful. Seeing
the unlooked-for turn affairs had taken, Capt. Bullitt, whom Major
Lewis had left to guard the baggage, gathered a few of his brave
Virginians about him, and prepared to make a desperate stand. Sending
back the strongest horses with the baggage, he blocked up the road
with the wagons, and, behind the barricade thus formed, posted his
men, to whom he gave a few brief orders how to act. These scanty
preparations were hardly made, when the Indians, having finished the
work of plunder, had sprung into swift pursuit, and were now close
upon them, the wild woods ringing with their terrible whoops and
yells. When they had come within short rifle-range, Capt. Bullitt and
his men met them with a well-aimed volley of musketry from behind the
shelter of their wagons; which, however, checked the savages but for a
moment. Rallying on the instant, they were pressing forward in still
greater numbers; when Capt. Bullitt held out a signal of surrender,
and came out from behind the barricade at the head of his men, as if
to lay down their arms: but no sooner were they within eight yards of
the enemy, and near enough to see the fierce light that shone in their
eyes, than they suddenly levelled their pieces, and poured a murderous
fire into the thickest of them; then, charging bayonets, scattered
them in every direction, and sent them yelling with astonishment and
dismay. Before they could rally again, and renew the pursuit, Capt.
Bullitt, having picked up many more of the fugitives, began a rapid
but orderly retreat.

For several days thereafter, the fugitives, singly or in squads, came
straggling into camp at Loyal Hannon. Of the eight hundred picked men
who had been sent out with such good promise of success, twenty
officers and two hundred and seventy-three privates had been left
behind, either killed or taken prisoners. The whole force of the
enemy, French and Indians, did not exceed that of the English: their
loss in the battle is not known; but, as the Highlanders fought well
and the Virginians fought well, it must have been heavy. The disaster
foreboded by Washington had thus in reality fallen upon them. He was
at Raystown when the dismal tidings came; and, although complimented
by Gen. Forbes upon the bravery his rangers had displayed, was deeply
grieved and mortified. In secret, many a man would have been gratified
at beholding a prophecy he had uttered thus fulfilled; but Washington,
incapable of such selfish and unnatural vanity, could but sorrow
thereat, although it must needs increase his reputation for foresight
and sagacity. As the only good thing that came from this defeat, I
must tell you (and you will be glad to hear it) that Capt. Bullitt was
rewarded with a major's commission for the gallant and soldierly
conduct he had shown on that disastrous day in the midst of such
fearful perils.

It was not until the middle of November that the whole army came up to
Loyal Hannon, a little distance beyond Laurel Hill. Winter was coming
on apace. What with rain and snow and frost, the roads would soon be
rendered impassable, not only to wheeled carriages, but to pack-horses
also. Fifty miles of unbroken wilderness lay between them and Fort
Duquesne,--so long the goal of their hopes and toils, that seemed to
recede as they advanced, like some enchanted castle we have read of
before now in books of fairy tales, that poor benighted travellers
never reach, although, in fancy, every step they take brings them
nearer. The leaders began to talk seriously of going into
winter-quarters at that place until the return of spring; and it
seemed as if another of Washington's prophecies were likely to be
fulfilled. But, about this time, two prisoners from Fort Duquesne were
brought into camp; from whom they drew such an account of the weakness
of the French, and the discontent and daily desertions of their Indian
allies, as determined them to push forward without further delay, in
spite of the wintry weather, and, at one fell blow, make a finish of
the campaign. So, leaving behind them their tents and baggage, and
taking with them but a few pieces of light artillery, they once more
resumed their toilsome march. Col. Washington was ordered to go on in
advance with a part of his detachment, to throw out scouts and
scouting parties, who were to scour the woods in every direction, and
thereby prevent the possibility of an ambuscade. This new arrangement,
which showed that Gen. Forbes had the wisdom to profit by the folly of
those who had gone before him, was a signal proof of the high esteem
in which provincial troops were at last beginning to be held; and to
which, by their courage, skill, and hardihood, they had, even years
before, won so just a title.

When within a few miles of the French fort, the road began to show
signs of the late disaster. Here and there were to be seen the
blackened and mangled bodies of men, who, while fleeing for their
lives, had been overtaken, and cut down by the murderous tomahawk; or,
exhausted from the loss of blood, had there, by the lonely wayside,
laid them down to die of their wounds. As they advanced, these ghastly
tokens of defeat and massacre were to be met with at shorter and
shorter intervals, till at length they lay thickly scattered about the
ground.

Being now in close neighborhood with the enemy, the English moved with
even greater caution and wariness than before; for they had every
reason to suspect, that, as he had suffered them to come thus far
without molestation, he meant to meet them here, under shelter of his
stronghold, with a resistance all the move determined. When come in
sight, however, what was their surprise, instead of beholding the high
ramparts and strong walls, grim and frowning with cannon, which they
had pictured to their minds, to find a heap of blackened and smoking
ruins!

Deserted by his Indian allies, threatened with famine, cut off from
all hope of aid from the North (where the English were everywhere
gaining ground), and with a force of but five hundred men wherewith to
defend the post against ten times that number, the French general had
seen that the attempt to hold it would be but folly; and, like a
prudent officer, had resolved to abandon it as his only chance of
safety. Waiting, therefore, until the English were within a day's
march of the place, he blew up the magazine, set fire to the works,
and, embarking in his bateaux by the light of the flames, retreated
down the Ohio.

Col. Washington, still leading the advance, was the first to enter;
and, with his own hand planting the British banner on the still
smouldering heaps, took formal possession thereof in the name of his
Britannic majesty, King George the Second. And thus this stronghold of
French power in the Ohio Valley, so long the pest and terror of the
border, fell without a blow. Under the name of Fort Pitt, it was soon
rebuilt, and garrisoned with two hundred of Washington's men; and,
from that time to the war of the Revolution, it was held by the
English, chiefly as a trading-post; and hence the dingy, smoky, noisy,
thriving, fast young city of Pittsburg.

They now had leisure to pay the last sad duty to the dead who had
fallen in the two defeats of Braddock and Grant. For three long years,
the bodies of Braddock's slaughtered men had lain without Christian
burial, bleaching in the sun of as many summers, and shrouded in the
snows of as many winters. Mingled with the bones of oxen and horses,
or half hidden in heaps of autumn leaves, they lay scattered about the
stony hillsides,--a spectacle ghastly indeed, and most melancholy to
behold. With many a sigh of pity for the hapless dead, and many a
shudder of dark remembrance on the part of those who had been present
at the scenes of rout and massacre, they gathered together the
blackened corpses of Grant's men and the whitened bones of Braddock's
men, and, digging a huge pit, buried them in one common grave. In this
pious duty all took part alike, from the general down to the common
soldier.

With the fall of Fort Duquesne, ended, as Washington had years ago
foreseen, the troubles of the Western and Southern frontiers, and with
it the power so long held by the French in the Ohio Valley. The
Indians, with that fickleness of mind peculiar to savage races, now
hastened to offer terms of amity and peace to the party whom the
fortunes of war had left uppermost.

Having done his part, and so large a part, towards the restoration of
quiet and security to his native province, the cherished object of his
heart, for which he had so faithfully and manfully struggled,
Washington resolved to bring his career as a soldier to a close. In
his very soul, he was sick and weary of strife, and longed for peace.
The scenes of violence and bloodshed had become loathing and painful
to him beyond the power of words to tell; and, now that his country
had no longer need of his services, he felt that he could, without
reproach, retire to the tranquil shades of private life he loved so
much, and had looked forward to with such earnest longings. He
therefore, at the end of the year, gave up his commission, and left
the service, followed by the admiration and affection of his soldiers,
and the applause and gratitude of his fellow-countrymen.

With the fall of Quebec in the course of the following year (1759),
this long and eventful Old French War was brought to a close, and
French empire in America was at an end.




XXII.

WASHINGTON AT HOME.


Having done all that a brave and prudent man could for his country's
welfare, Col. Washington now lost no time, you may depend upon it, in
doing what every wise and prudent man should for his own: by which you
are to understand, that on the sixth day of January, 1759, when he
wanted but a few weeks of completing his twenty-seventh year, he was
joined in the holy bonds of marriage with Mrs. Martha Custis, the
blooming and lovely young widow, and mother of the two interesting
little children,--to all of whom you had a slight introduction a short
time ago.

The nuptials were celebrated at the White House, the home of the
bride, in the presence of a goodly company of stately dames and fine
old gentlemen, fair maidens and handsome youth,--the kith and kin and
loving friends of the wedded pair. Had some belated traveller been
overtaken by the little hours of that night, as he chanced to pass
that way, he might have guessed, from the soft, warm light that shone
from all of the many windows, and sounds of sweet music that came
through the open doors, mingled with peals of joyous laughter, and the
light tripping of numerous feet in the merry dance, that it must be a
much-beloved and fortunate couple indeed that could draw together so
happy and brilliant a throng under that hospitable roof. Had this same
belated traveller wanted further proof of this, he had but to turn a
little aside, and take a peep into the <DW64> quarters, where he would
have seen the  folks in a jubilee over the grand occasion, and,
to all appearances, quite as jolly as if the wedding had been an
affair of their own getting-up, and in which each son and daughter of
ebony had a personal interest. He would have seen them feasting on the
abundant leavings that came down from the great house, till their
faces shone again; and dancing to the music of Bishop Braddock's
fiddle in a fashion all their own, and nobody's else.

First and foremost among these, with his wool combed the highest, his
breeches the reddest, and manners the genteelest, might have been
spied Black Jerry (who, when a negroling, had been saved from a
thrashing by little George, as you well remember), showing off his
heels to the envy of all male and the admiration of all female
beholders. This last, it is but fair to say, is merely a fancy sketch
of your Uncle Juvinell's, conjured up by recollections of certain long
talks he often had, when a boy, with Black Jerry himself, at that time
a very old <DW64> of most excellent morals, who never failed, when his
honored master's name was mentioned, to show his yellow ivory, and,
for very respect, uncover his head, the wool of which was then as
white as a Merino ram's.

This joyous event having passed thus happily off, Col. Washington, a
short time after, repaired to Williamsburg to take his seat in the
Virginia Legislature, or House of Burgesses as it was then called, to
which he had been elected while absent on the last campaign; without,
however, any particular desire or effort on his part, but by that of
his numerous friends. Hardly had his name been enrolled as a member of
that honorable body, when Mr. Robinson, Speaker of the House, by
previous agreement arose and addressed him in a short but eloquent
speech; thanking him, in the name of the rest, for the many and
valuable services he had rendered his country during the past five
years, and setting forth the gratitude and esteem with which he was
regarded by his fellow-countrymen. Surprised out of his usual
composure and self-possession by the honor thus unexpectedly done him,
Washington, upon rising to thank the House, could only blush, stammer,
and stand trembling, without the power to utter a single word. Seeing
his painful embarrassment, Mr. Robinson hastened to his relief by
saying with a courteous smile, "Sit down, Mr. Washington: your modesty
equals your valor; and that surpasses the power of any language I
possess." From that time till near the breaking-cut of the
Revolution,--a period of fifteen years, he remained an active and
influential member of this body; being returned from year to year by
the united voice of the good people whose district he represented.
Always thorough in whatever he undertook, he rested not until he had
made himself muster of every point and question touching the duties of
his new office; and, for method, promptness, prudence, and sagacity,
soon proved himself quite as good a civilian as he had been a soldier.

Early in the following spring, his first session ended, he betook
himself to the sweet retirement of Mount Vernon; where, cheered by the
company of his beautiful young wife and her interesting little
children, he once more resumed those peaceful pursuits and innocent
amusements to which he had looked forward with such bright
anticipations amidst the perils and hardships of a soldier's life.
War, as war, had already, young and ardent as he was, lost for him its
charms; and he had learned to look upon it as a hard and terrible
necessity, ever to be avoided, except in cases where the safety of his
country should demand it as a last desperate remedy. Unlike most men
of a bold and adventurous disposition, he all his life long took the
greatest pleasure in the pursuits of a husbandman; and, to his manner
of thinking, there was no lot or calling in life so happy, and none
more honorable. Having now ample time for the indulgence of his
tastes, he set about improving and beautifying his plantations, of
which he had several, in the most approved style of that day. He
planted orchards of various fruits; set his hillsides in grass;
drained his marshes, and turned them into rich meadow-lands; built
mills and blacksmith-shops; enlarged his family mansion to a size
better befitting his elegant and hospitable style of living; adorned
the grounds about it with shrubbery, trees, and gardens; and converted
the wild woods hard by into open and verdant parks. To his <DW64>
slaves he was the kindest of masters; ever mindful of their comfort,
and extremely careful of them in sickness. Being of industrious habits
himself, he would not make the least grain of allowance for sloth or
idleness in them, or indeed in any one about him, but was strict in
exacting of them the speedy and full performance of their allotted
tasks; which, however, he always took care should come under rather
than up to the measure of their strength. In his business habits, he
was methodical to a nicety; kept his own books, and was his own
overseer: for, having a strong aversion to being waited on, he never
suffered others to do for him what he could do for himself. He kept a
close and clear account, in writing, of the profits arising from the
grain, tobacco, and other produce of his lands; and also the amount of
his personal, household, and plantation expenses: by which means he
could tell at a glance whether he were on the making or losing order,
and readily detect whether any of whom he had dealings were given to
careless or dishonest practices. So superior was the quality of every
thing produced on his estate, and so widely known did he become for
his honesty and uprightness in all business transactions, that, in
time, a box of tobacco or a barrel of flour marked "George Washington,
Mount Vernon, Va.," would be received into many foreign ports without
the custom-house authorities opening or inspecting it.

He was an early riser. In winter, getting up before day, and lighting
his own fire, he wrote or read two or three hours by candle-light.
After a frugal breakfast of two small cups of tea and four small cakes
of Indian meal, he mounted his horse, and rode about his plantations;
seeing to every thing with his own eye, and often lending a helping
hand. This duty done, he returned to the house at noon, and dined
heartily, as well beseemed the active, robust man that he was, yet
never exceeding the bounds of temperance and moderation both as to
eating and drinking. His afternoons he usually devoted to the
entertainment of his numerous guests, who thronged his hospitable
mansion almost daily, and, if from a distance, abiding there for weeks
together. After a supper frugal as his breakfast, if there was no
company in the house, he would read aloud to his family from some
instructive and entertaining book, or from the newspapers of the day;
and then, at an early hour, retire to his room for the night.

Fish and game abounded in the woods and streams of his domain, as well
as in those of the adjoining plantations; and he was thus enabled to
indulge his fondness for angling and hunting to the utmost, whenever
he felt so inclined. Two or three times a week, the shrill winding of
the hunter's horn and the deep-mouthed baying of the fox-hounds would
ring out on the clear morning air; when he might be seen at the head
of a brilliant company of mounted hunters, dashing over the fields,
across the streams, and through the woods, hot on the heels of some
unlucky Reynard. I should not say unlucky, however; for although
Washington was as bold and skilful a rider as could be found in
thirteen provinces, and kept the finest of horses and finest of dogs,
yet, for all that, he could seldom boast of any great success as a
fox-hunter. But having the happy knack of making the best and most of
every thing, be it toward or untoward, he always consoled himself with
the reflection, that, if they had failed to catch their fox, they at
least had their sport and a deal of healthful exercise; which, after
all, should be the only object of fox-hunting. On such occasions, he
was either joined by the neighboring gentry, or by such guests as
chanced at the time to be enjoying the hospitalities of Mount Vernon.
Among these, it was not unusual to find old Lord Fairfax, the friend
and companion of his stripling days, who would come down from Greenway
Court several times a year, with a long train of hunters and hounds,
and by his presence double the mirth and cheer of all the country-side
for miles and miles around. The fate of poor Reynard being duly
settled, they would repair either to Mount Vernon, or to the residence
of any one else of the party that chanced to be nearest, and wind up
the sports of the day by a hunting-dinner, at which they were usually
favored with the company of the ladies. At such times, Washington is
said to have entered so keenly into the general hilarity, as to quite
lay aside his accustomed gravity and reserve, and show himself almost
as jovial as the merry old lord himself. Speaking of these amusements,
brings to mind an anecdote of him, which I must tell you, as it will
give you a still more lively idea of the promptness and decision with
which he was wont to act whenever occasion demanded.

In those old-fashioned times, among many other laws that would seem
odd enough to us at the present day, there were many very strict and
severe ones for the protection of game, which made poaching (that is
to say, hunting on private grounds without leave or license from the
owner) no less a crime than theft, and punished the poacher as a thief
accordingly. Now, there was a certain idle, worthless fellow,
notorious for his desperate character, as being the most daring
poacher in seven counties, who was known to be much in the habit of
trespassing on the grounds belonging to Mount Vernon. This had been
forbidden him by Washington, who had warned him of the consequences if
he did not cease his depredations, and keep at a safe distance; but to
this the sturdy vagrant gave little heed. He would cross over the
river in a canoe, which he would hide, in some secret nook best known
to himself, among the reeds and rushes that fringed the banks, and
with his fowling-piece make ruinous havoc among the canvas-back ducks
that flocked in great multitudes to the low marsh-lands of that
region.


[Illustration]


One day, as Washington was going his accustomed rounds about the
plantations, he heard the report of a gun in the neighborhood of the
river; and, guessing what was in the wind, he forthwith spurred his
horse in that direction, and, dashing through the bushes, came upon
the culprit, just as he, paddle in hand, was pushing from the shore.
The fellow, seeing his danger, cocked his gun, and, with a threatening
look, levelled it directly at Washington, who, without heeding this in
the least, rode into the water, and, seizing the canoe by the painter,
dragged it ashore. Leaping then from his horse, he wrenched the
fowling-piece from the astonished poacher, and fell to belaboring him
in so clean and handsome a manner, as to make the unlucky wight
heartily wish he had the wide Potomac between him and the terrible man
whose iron grasp was then on his collar. My word for it, he never
trespassed again on those forbidden grounds; and I dare be sworn, he
never saw or ate or smelt a canvas-back thereafter, without feeling a
lively smarting up and down under his jacket, and, it may be, his
buckskin breeches too. It was not that a few dozen or even a hundred
ducks had been shot on his premises, that Washington was thus moved to
chastise this fellow; but that, in spite of wholesome warnings, he
should go on breaking the laws of the land with such impunity; and
also, that, instead of seeking to earn an honest livelihood by the
labor of his hands, he should prefer rather to live in idleness, and
gain a bare subsistence by such paltry and unlawful means.

Although verging on to middle age, Washington was still very fond of
active and manly sports, such as tossing the bar and throwing the
sledge, wrestling, running, and jumping; in all of which he had but
few equals, and no superiors. Among other stories of his strength and
agility, there is one which you may come across some day in the course
of your reading, relating how that, at a leaping-match, he cleared
twenty-two feet seven inches of dead level turf at a single bound.

Notwithstanding his modesty and reserve, he took much pleasure in
society, and ever sought to keep up a free and social interchange of
visits between his family and those of his neighbors. Besides their
fine horses and elegant carriages, he, and others of the old Virginia
gentry of that day whose plantations lay along the Potomac, kept their
own barges or pleasure-boats, which were finished and fitted up in a
sumptuous style, and were sometimes rowed by as many as six <DW64> men,
all in neat uniforms. In these, they, with their wives and children,
would visit each other up and down the river; and often, after
lengthening out their calls far into the night, would row home by the
light of the moon, which, lending charms that the sun had not to the
tranquil flow of the winding stream, and to the waving woods that
crowned the banks on either hand, caused them often to linger, as
loath to quit the enchanting scene. A few weeks of the winter months
were usually spent by Mr. and Mrs. Washington either at Williamsburg
or at Annapolis, then, as now, the capital of Maryland, where was to
be found the best society of the provinces, and of which they were the
pride and ornament. Here they entered into the gayeties of the season,
such as dinners and balls, with much real relish; and, if the theatre
added its attractions to the rest, Washington always made it a point
to attend, as the entertainments there offered were of the sort that
afforded him much delight. Nor was he loath to join in the dance; and
your Uncle Juvinell, when a boy, had the rare fortune of meeting, now
and then, with stately old dames, who had been belles in their days,
and could boast of having had him for a partner; but, at the same
time, they were wont to confess, that they were generally too much
overawed by the gravity and dignity of his demeanor to feel entirely
at their ease in his company, however flattered they may have been at
the honor, which he, in his modesty, so little dreamed he was doing
them.

Washington's marriage was never blessed with children; but he was all
that a father could be to those of Mrs. Washington, whom he loved and
cherished as tenderly as if they had been his own. As their guardian,
he had the care of their education, and also the entire control of the
immense fortune, amounting, in <DW64>s, land, and money, to nearly two
hundred thousand dollars, left them by their father, Mr. George
Custis; and lovingly and faithfully did he discharge this sacred and
delicate trust. Of these two children, the daughter (who was the
younger of the two) died, in early maidenhood, of consumption. She had
been of a slender constitution from her childhood; but, for all that,
her death was an unexpected stroke, and was long and deeply mourned by
Mrs. Washington and her husband. He is said to have been absent during
her illness; but, returning a short time before she breathed her last,
was so overcome with pity and tenderness upon seeing the sad change
wrought in so brief a space by this dreadful disease in her fair young
face and delicate form, that he threw himself upon his knees by her
bedside, and, in a passionate burst of grief, poured out a fervent
prayer for her recovery. The son now became the sole object of
parental love and solicitude; and being, like his sister, of frail and
uncertain health, was a source of much affectionate anxiety to his
step-father as well as to his mother.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Washington were members of the Episcopal Church, and
persons of the truest Christian piety. Every sabbath, when the roads
and weather permitted, they attended divine worship either at
Alexandria or at a church in their own neighborhood, and always took
part in the religious exercises of the day with earnest and solemn
devotion. In addition to the many charms of mind and person already
mentioned, Mrs. Washington was a woman of great benevolence, and spent
much of her time in acts of kindness and charity, which won her the
love and gratitude of every poor family in the country around.

Thus passed away fifteen tranquil years,--the white days of
Washington's life. When we behold him as he was then, in the full
strength and beauty of his ripened manhood, possessed of one of
the handsomest fortunes in America, living in the bountiful and
elegant style of those hospitable times, the pride and honor of
his native province, the object of applause and gratitude to his
fellow-countrymen, and of esteem and love to all whose privilege it
was to call him friend; and, above all, blessed, in the partner of his
choice, with a woman gifted with every grace and virtue that can adorn
her sex,--when we behold him thus, well may we exclaim, "Verily, here
was a man favored of Heaven in a special manner, and blessed beyond
the lot of common mortals here below." But the clouds were gathering,
and had long been gathering, that were soon to burst in storm and
tempest over that happy and rising young land, and force him for
many, many weary years from those, his loved retreats and peaceful
pursuits, upon a wider, nobler field of action, wherein he was to play
a part that should, in fine, win for him the name so dear to every
American heart,--Father of his Country.




XXIII.

A FAMILY QUARREL.


"And now, Dannie, mend the fire with another Christmas log. You,
Willie, open the windows at top and bottom, to let out the smoke the
young historian will be sure to raise. Laura, my dear, trim the lamp;
and you, Ella,--will you have the kindness to put a little sugar in
your uncle's cider?--there's a darling! Ned, my boy, just tumble
sleepy-headed Charlie there out of his comfortable nap, and touse him
into his waking senses again. All right? Now I would have every one of
you put your thinking-caps square and tight upon your heads, and keep
all your ears about you; for, depend upon it, what I am now going to
tell you is so full of hard points and tough knots, that, should you
but lose the crossing of a 't,' or even the dotting of an 'i,'
thereof, all the rest will be to you as so much hifalutin
transcendentalism." (Here Uncle Juvinell took a gigantic swallow of
cider, and pronounced the sugar a decided improvement; while the
little folks wrote something on their slates, very long, and which no
two of them spelt alike. Uncle Juvinell smacked his lips, and then
resumed.)

Now, you must know, my dear children, that Great Britain, at the time
of which we are speaking, was, and for many years had been, and, in
fact, still is, and, in all human likelihood, will ever continue to
be, burdened with a mountain-load of debt, which has already given her
a frightful stoop in the shoulders, and may, in time, grow to such an
enormous bulk as to break her sturdy old back outright. She had, as
you have seen, added all French America to her dominions; but with
this increase of power and glory, that made her king and nobles smile
and sing with joy, came also an increase of debt and trouble, that
made her common people scowl and growl with want and discontent. The
expenses of the late war with France had added the weight of another
AEtna or Sinai to the already staggering load that chafed her back;
and, sorely grieved thereat, she began casting in her mind what might
be done to lighten it a little.

"My young Colonies," said our mother to herself, "which were planted
by my love so many years ago, have grown to a goodly size, and
prospered in a wonderful manner, under my fostering care, for which
they owe me many thanks; and, being quite old and strong enough, must
now repay it by taking their due share of my heavy burden."

Now, in all this, our mother did but deceive herself: for these
Colonies had been planted by her oppression, not by her love; they
had grown by her neglect, not by her fostering care. Therefore, they
did not, as she pretended, owe her either love or thanks, although
they gave her both; and she had no right to make them carry her burden
without their consent. Strange as it may appear, these infant Colonies
loved their mother to distraction, in spite of her unmotherly
treatment of them; and would have gone any length to serve her,--even
to the extent of bearing double the burden she would have laid on
them,--had she been wise enough to consult their wishes about the
matter, and suffer them to lay it on their own shoulders, in their own
fashion, and of their own free will. To this the perverse old mother
would not listen for a moment; and, without pausing to reflect what
might be the consequences, took an AEtna or a Sinai from the load on
her own shoulders, and clapped it on those of her children, who sat
down under it plump, and sturdily refused to budge until they should
be allowed to put it there themselves. Whereupon, this stiff-necked,
wrong-headed old Britannia (for such was her Christian name) was
exceeding wroth, made an outlandish noise among the nations, and even
went so far (you will be shocked to hear) as to swear a little. Seeing
there was no help for it but to remove this AEtna, she did so with as
good a grace as could be expected in a family-quarrel; but was so
indiscreet and short-sighted as still to leave a very small burden,--a
mere hillock indeed,--just by way, as she said, of showing that she
had the right to load and unload them when and how it suited her
sovereign pleasure best.

Now, be it known, it was not the burden they had to carry of which
these generous and high-spirited Colonies complained so bitterly; but
that they should be denied the right of freely judging when and how
and wherefore they were to be taxed,--a right that had been the pride
and boast of Englishmen time out of mind. As for the matter of the
burden, had that been all, they could have danced, ay, and blithely
too, under AEtna and Sinai both, had the load but been of their own
choosing, of their own putting-on, and of their own adjusting.

To add to their distress and humiliation, this hardest and
unnaturalest of mothers now set over them judges, who were strangers
to them, and loved them not; who were to hold their places, not, as
theretofore, during good behavior, but at her will and pleasure.
Another right, as dear to Englishmen as life itself, was taken from
them,--to wit, the right of trial by jury; which gave every person,
great or small, suspected or known to be guilty of any crime against
the laws of the land, the privilege of a speedy trial, in open court,
in the place where the crime may have been committed, and by a jury of
honest and impartial men. Instead of this, the person accused was to
be taken aboard some ship-of-war, likely as not a thousand miles from
Christian land, and there tried by some authorities of the navy, who
would know but little, and must needs care still less, concerning the
person under trial, or his offence.

Under these and many other oppressions and injuries, the young
Colonies groaned grievously. But, for all that, they were not to be
subdued or broken. Time and again, they sent petitions to this
unkindest and wilfulest of mothers, beseeching her, in humble and
loving and dutiful terms, to remove this degrading burden from their
shoulders, and once more receive them as children into her maternal
bosom; warning her, at the same time, of what must be the melancholy
consequences, if she hearkened not to their prayers. Then was the
time, if ever, when, by a few kind words betokening a desire for
reconciliation, she might have secured and made fast the love of these
devoted and affectionate children for ever; and, had she been as wise
as she was powerful, even so would she have done. But, like the Egypt
of olden times, she did but harden her heart against them all the
more, even to the hardness of the nether mill-stone; and only sought
how she could the more easily grind them into obedience and
submission. She had grown to be mighty among the nations, this
Britannia. Her armed legions told of her power by land; her ships of
war and her ships of commerce whitened a hundred seas. The great sun,
that set on every kingdom of the known earth, she boasted never went
down on her dominion. Wherefore was she swollen and big with pride,
and from a high place looked haughtily down upon the little nations at
her feet. What height of presumption was it, then, in these
insignificant young Colonies, struggling for bare existence off there
on the uttermost edges of the civilized earth, thus to lift themselves
against her sovereign will, and dare dispute her high decrees! It was
not to be borne: she would humble them for this presumption, chastise
them for their disobedience, and show them what a terrible thing it
was to provoke her wrath. Her heart thus steeled to mercy, she stayed
not her hand, but sent her hosts of armed men in her fleets of armed
ships, to lay her heavy yoke, and fit it firm and fast on the necks of
her rebellious children.

Beholding this, and that it were vain to hope for reconciliation, the
Colonies, with one voice, with one indignant voice, exclaimed, "Now,
since our mother seems bent on treating us as slaves and strangers,
and not as children, then are we compelled, in our own defence, to
treat her, not as our mother, but as a stranger and our enemy. And
bear us witness, O ye nations! how long and humbly and earnestly we
have prayed that there should be love and peace between us and this
our mother; and bear us witness also, that, although we now lift our
rebellious hand against her, there is no hatred in our hearts, even
now, but rather sorrow unspeakable, that she should at last have
driven us to this saddest, this direfulest of alternatives." Then,
moved with one spirit (that of the love of freedom), and bent on one
purpose (that of the defence of their sacred rights), they rose in
their young strength, and, commending their just cause to the God of
hosts, made that last appeal,--which, to a brave and virtuous people,
has ever been the last,--the appeal to arms. And so they did, while
the nations looked on in wonder and applause.




XXIV.

THE CAUSE OF THE QUARREL.


But, my children, I must tell you, in other and perhaps plainer words,
what these measures were that led to such momentous results, why
resorted to, how carried out, and by whom.

From what you have just been told, you can have no difficulty in
guessing that Great Britain was desperately in debt, and in the very
mood to resort to desperate measures of delivering herself therefrom.
Her being in this particular mood at that particular time (for it is
only now and then that she has shown herself so unamiable) was owing
chiefly to the fact, that she was just then under the rule, or rather
misrule, of that narrow-minded, short-sighted, hard-fisted,
wrong-headed man, who commonly goes in history by the name of King
George the Third. Had he been the superintendent of a town workhouse,
he might perhaps have acquitted himself respectably enough; or, if I
may be so bold, he might have served a life-term as Governor of London
Tower, and gone to his grave without any great discredit or reproach:
but, in all human reason and justice, he certainly had no more
business on the throne of England than your Uncle Juvinell himself.
His ministers, who were of his own choosing, were vultures, of the
same harsh, unsightly plumage, and, at his beck or nod, stood ready to
do whatever knave's work he might have on hand,--even to the grinding
of his people's bones to make his bread, should his royal appetite
turn that way.

With such men at the helm of State, it is no wonder, then, that unwise
and oppressive measures should be resorted to for raising money, or,
as it is more properly called in such cases, a revenue, for paying the
debts and keeping up the expenses of the government. The first pounce
they made was on their young Colonies in America, whom they sought to
burden with heavy taxes laid on exports, or articles of commerce sent
out of the country, and on imports, or articles of commerce brought
into the country. The principal articles thus taxed were paper,
painters' colors, glass, sugar and molasses, and tea. The tax-money or
revenue scraped together from the sale of these articles--and which
made them dearer to him who bought and him who sold, according to the
amount of duty laid on--was to be gathered into the public treasury
for the purposes aforesaid. Another plan for raising revenue, hit upon
by these ingenious kites, was that famous one called the "Stamp Act,"
the design of which was to compel the people of the Colonies, in order
to make their business transactions good and valid, to use a certain
kind of paper, having on it a certain stamp. Each kind of paper had
its own particular stamp, and could only be applied to a certain
purpose specified thereon. Thus there was a deed stamp-paper, the will
stamp-paper, the note-of-hand and bill-of-exchange stamp-paper, the
marriage stamp-paper; and, in short, stamp-paper for every concern in
life requiring an instrument of writing. The paper itself was
altogether a commodity of the government, by whom it was manufactured,
and sold at prices varying from a few pence up to many pounds sterling
of good, hard English money, just according to the magnitude or nature
of the business in hand. Had it gone into effect, it must needs have
borne on the dead as well as on the living: for, if the last will and
testament of a deceased and lamented relative were not written on
paper with the proper stamp, it could not have been good and valid in
the king's eyes; and this would have led to grievous misunderstandings
between the bereaved and affectionate heirs, and perhaps the deceased
himself, in consequence, would have slept uneasily in his grave.

Another oppressive measure--the design whereof, however, was for
saving money, rather than for raising revenue--was that of quartering
troops upon the country in time of peace; by which means they must
needs be supported to a great extent by the people so sponged upon.

But the most brilliant stroke of all was an act forbidding the
Colonies from trading with any foreign ports, and from manufacturing
certain articles, lest the value and sale of the same articles
manufactured in England, and to be sold in America, might be lowered
or hindered thereby.

I have already mentioned, how that the right of choosing their judges
and other civil officers, and the right of trial by jury, had been
taken from them,--measures that had a meanness and odium quite their
own; as serving no end of profit, but merely as safety-valves, through
which the royal bile might find vent now and then.

Now, the good people of the Colonies, as I have hinted elsewhere,
would not have raised the hue and outcry that they did against these
measures, had it not been for one thing, which to them, as Englishmen,
was all in all; to wit, the right of taxing themselves, and
legislating or making laws for themselves through persons of their own
choosing, called representatives. And this is, my little folks, what
is meant by taxation, and legislation by representation, in a nation.
You will do well to bear this in mind continually; for it is the very
keystone to the arch of all true government.

This right of representation, however, was denied them; for what
earthly reason, no one, not in the secret, could imagine. As the king
himself was never able to render a reason for any thing he did, his
ministers would not for any thing they did, and the parliament dared
not for any thing they did.

What could they do, then, but send petitions to the king, and
remonstrances to the parliament, complaining of, and crying out
against, their many grievances, and deploring and demanding that they
be removed and redressed. Although they did this with more dignity and
respectfulness, with more clearness and ability, than the like thing
had ever been done before, or has been since, by any people, yet their
petitions were spurned by the king, because they were just and manly,
and he was not; and their remonstrances went unheeded by the
parliament, because they were wise and reasonable, and it was not.

Failing to get redress for their grievances, the colonists resolved
that the source of these same grievances should not be a source of
profit to those who imposed them. To bring about this result, they, as
one man, entered into what was called the "non-importation
agreement,"--or, in other words, an agreement by which they solemnly
pledged themselves to abstain from the use of all articles burdened
with a tax, until such tax should be removed; and, furthermore, that
they would not buy or use any thing that they were forbidden to
manufacture themselves; and, still furthermore, that not a ship of
theirs should trade with British ports, until the act forbidding them
to trade with foreign ports should be repealed. Some of them, I dare
say, would have gone so far, had that been possible, as to pledge
themselves not to die, until the Stamp Act, compelling them to write
their wills on stamp-paper, was also repealed. This agreement was so
rigidly observed, that the men took to wearing jeans, and the women
linsey-woolseys, which they wove in their own looms; the old ladies
drank sassafras-tea, sweetened with maple-sugar; and old gentlemen
wrote no wills, but declared them on their death-bed to their weeping
families by word of mouth. Whether the people stopped marrying or not,
it is not known with certainty; but from my knowledge of human nature,
which is extensive, I do not think I should greatly hazard my
reputation as a historian, were I to state flatly, roundly, and
emphatically, that it had not the least effect in that way.

The days on which these measures were to go into effect were observed
by the colonists as days of fasting, prayer, and humiliation. All
business was laid aside, the shops were closed, the churches opened,
and the church-bells tolled as on some funeral occasion; and between
praying at church, and fasting at home, and brooding over their
grievances, the good people were very miserable indeed. Although they
suffered great inconvenience from their observance of the
non-importation agreement, yet they bore it patiently and cheerfully,
like men who felt that their cause was just and right. But the sudden
stoppage of the immense trade that flowed from the colonial ports into
those of the mother-country told dreadfully on the commerce of Great
Britain; and British merchants and British manufacturers, and British
people in general, soon began to suffer even more than the colonists
themselves. Whereupon, a counter stream of petitions and remonstrances
set in upon the king and parliament from the people at home, who
declared that the country would be ruined, if these odious measures,
crippling American commerce, were not speedily withdrawn. Said they,
"If we cannot sell the Americans our broadcloths, our flannels, and
our silks, the obstinate men of that country will stick to their
jeans, and the perverse women to their linsey-woolseys, till we are
undone for ever. In that one pestilent little town of Boston, our
trade in silks alone is not so good by fifty thousand dollars a year
as it has been heretofore: and we humbly entreat that our American
brothers be allowed to trade with us and foreign nations as in days
gone by; for you must see by this time with your own eyes, that we, as
a nation, are growing poorer every day under this state of things,
instead of richer every year as had been expected."

The commissioners--that is to say, the persons who had been appointed
by the British Government to bring or receive the stamp-paper, and
give it circulation throughout the Colonies--were mobbed and pelted by
the indignant people, whenever and wherever they made the least
attempt to do their odious work. In consequence of this determined
opposition, the paper never went into circulation: so it was stocked
away in outhouses, and there left to mould and to be eaten by rats and
mice, if their stomachs were not too dainty for such vile provender.
Thus this famous piece of ingenuity, the Stamp Act, had no other
effect than that of giving the civilized world a hearty laugh, and
increasing the British debt just so much as the paper cost, instead of
lessening it, as its inventors, in their blind confidence, had hoped.

Beholding how utterly had failed all their pet schemes for raising
revenue, the narrow-minded king, and the king-minded ministry, and the
many-minded parliament, were, so to speak, thrown on their haunches,
and forced to eat their own folly; which, I dare say, they found less
palatable than their roast beef and plum-pudding. In other words, they
repealed the Stamp Act; with one stroke of the royal pen, struck off
the taxes laid on the above-mentioned articles; and once more gave the
Colonies full liberty to manufacture whatsoever, and re-open
commercial intercourse with whomsoever, they chose. And thus this
non-importation agreement worked like a charm: it brought about in a
trice what petitions and remonstrances had failed to accomplish in
years.

When tidings came of what had been done at home, there was great
rejoicing throughout the provinces: the church-bells were tolled to
another tune than that with which they had been tolled a short time
before; the good people met at church, but this time to give thanks;
and went home, not to fast, but to feast; and were now quite as
comfortable as they had before been miserable. But I have gone a
little too far, however. There was one circumstance that greatly
dampened the general feeling of joy, and made a mere thanksgiving of
what might else have been a high-sounding jubilee. This was the tax on
tea, which had not been struck off along with the rest, but had been
suffered to remain; not that any great revenue was expected to arise
therefrom, but simply to show that they--the king and parliament--had
not disclaimed or yielded up the right to tax and burden the Colonies
when and how they thought fit and proper. This vexed the American
people sorely; for though the bulk of the nuisance had been taken
away, yet all the odor still remained: or, speaking more plainly, the
right of laying such burdens on themselves, of their own free will,
was still denied them; and this, in fact, was the very thing that made
it so intolerable for them to bear. "Is it," said Washington in a
letter to a friend, "the duty of threepence per pound upon tea that we
object to as burdensome? No; but it is the right to lay this duty upon
ourselves for which we contend."

Therefore, as far as the commodity tea was concerned, the people of
the Colonies still observed the non-importation agreement. From some
of the ports, the ships that had come over from England laden with
this delightful plant were sent back, without being suffered to
discharge their cargoes; in others, where it had been landed, it was
not allowed to be sold, but was stowed away in cellars and the like
out-of-the-way places, where it moulded, or became the food of rats
and mice, whose bowels, if we may trust the testimony of some of our
great-grandmothers, were so bound up thereby, that a terrible
mortality set in among them, that swept them away by cart-loads.

Now, the East-India Company, to whom had been granted the sole
privilege of trading in tea for the space of a hundred years, if I
remember rightly, were greatly alarmed at the consequences of the
tea-tax. Enormous quantities of the article had begun to accumulate in
their London warehouses, now that there was no market for it in
America, which hitherto had fed the purse in their left-hand pocket,
as did that in Great Britain the larger one in their right-hand
pocket. "Something must be done," said they to themselves (they
certainly said it to nobody else),--"something must be done, or these
high-spirited women of America will drink their wishy-washy sassafras
till their blood be no thicker than whey, and the purse in our
left-hand pocket become as light and lean and lank as when we sent our
first ship-load thither years ago." This "something to be done" was a
loud petition to parliament, praying for speedy relief from the ruin,
which has an uncomfortable fashion of staring at great mercantile
companies, and was now staring them full in the face.

So, putting their heads together, the king and parliament hit upon an
ingenious plan, by which they, the East-India Company, could sell
their tea, and the government collect the duty thereon. It was this:
The price of the article should be so far reduced, that it would be
lower, even with the duty on it, than, at the usual rate of sale,
without any duty at all. This was a brilliant scheme indeed, and would
have succeeded to admiration, had the good people of America been a
nation of bats and geese; but, as they were not, the scheme failed
disgracefully, as you shall presently see.

By way of giving this plan a trial, a few ships loaded with tea were
sent over to Boston, where they lay for some time in the harbor,
without being permitted by the people to land their cargoes. One day,
as if to show the king and ministers and parliament, the East-India
Company, and the whole British nation, that they, the Americans, were,
and had been from the very beginning, desperately in earnest in all
that they had said and done for years past, a party, composed of about
fifty of the most sober and respectable citizens of Boston and the
country around, disguised themselves as Indians, and went aboard these
ships. Not a word was to be heard among them; but, keeping a grim and
ominous silence, they ranged the vessel from stem to stern, ransacked
their cargoes, broke open the tea-chests, and, pouring their contents
into the sea, made the fishes a dish of tea, which is said to have had
the same effect on them as on the rats and mice. This done with
perfect coolness and sobriety, the party returned to their homes as
orderly and silent as they had come; not the first movement towards a
mob or tumult having been made by the people during the whole
proceeding.

This affair, commonly known in history as the Boston Tea-party, and
which took place in 1774, overwhelmed his majesty with stupid
astonishment, threw his ministers into fits of foaming rage, fell like
a thunder-clap upon the House of Parliament, and effectually
demolished the last forlorn hope of the East-India Company. The spirit
of resistance on the part of the Colonies had now been carried to such
a length, that the home-government determined to send over the
military to awe them by the terror of its presence into obedience to
their unreasonable and oppressive demands; and, should not this be
found sufficient, to compel them into submission by the force of its
arms.

Oh, woful, woful, that ever a tyrant should live to keep his
dragon-watch on the birth of the free-born thought, the independent
wish, and ere the full, clear light of heaven descend upon it, warming
it into strength and beauty, to seize and crush it into slavish fear,
and love and justice without power to stay his impious hand!




XXV.

RESISTANCE TO TYRANNY.


With what deep and earnest interest Washington watched the course of
these momentous events may be readily imagined, if we reflect how much
of his life had been already spent in the service of the public, and
how near he had ever kept the good and welfare of his native land at
heart.

He was not a mere looker-on, but one of those who had in the very
beginning shown themselves ready to enter, heart and hand and fortune,
into all just and lawful measures of resistance to oppression in every
shape and form; but, with his usual modesty, forbearing to push
himself forward, which served, no doubt, to add to his example still
greater weight and influence, and make it all the more illustrious. He
rigidly observed the non-importation agreement, and was, in fact, one
of the first to propose its adoption; and none of the articles therein
named were to be seen in his house until the odious burdens laid
thereon had been removed.

Little or no lasting good, however, could be expected from these, or
indeed any measures, unless the Colonies should come to a clearer and
fuller understanding, one with another, touching the troubles that
concerned all equally and alike. To bring this much-to-be-wished-for
end about, it was resolved that a general assembly of all the Colonies
should be called, wherein each province, through its representatives
chosen by the people thereof, should have a voice. As the first step
towards this object, conventions were summoned in the various
provinces, the members whereof had the authority to choose from among
their number those who were to be their representatives or
mouth-pieces in this great Colonial Assembly, since known in history
as the Old Continental Congress.

Patrick Henry (the great American orator), Mr. Pendleton, and
Washington were those appointed to represent Virginia. Accordingly,
about the middle of September, 1774, these three Congress-men set out
together on horseback for Philadelphia, the place of meeting. Arrived
here, Washington found assembled the first talent, wisdom, and virtue
of the land. It was to him a sublime spectacle indeed,--that of the
people of many widely separated provinces thus met together to give
voice and expression to what they felt to be their sacred rights as
freemen and free Englishmen. To add still greater solemnity to their
proceedings, and give their cause the stamp of the just and righteous
cause they felt it to be, it was resolved to open the business of each
day with prayer. Next morning, there came a report that Boston had
been cannonaded by the king's troops, who had been stationed there for
many weeks past. Although this afterwards turned out to be false, yet,
at the time, it had a most beneficial effect, in drawing still nearer
together those who but the day before had met as strangers, by
impressing their minds with a still deeper sense of the sacredness of
the trust imposed on them by their country, and by bringing more
directly home to them their common danger, and dependence one upon
another. The minister, before offering up his prayer, took up the
Bible to read a passage therefrom, and, as if providentially, opened
at the thirty-fifth Psalm, which seemed to have been written expressly
for this great occasion, and began thus: "Plead my cause, O Lord, with
them that strive with me; fight against them that fight against me."
What wonder, then, that, under circumstances like these, they should
feel their hearts joined together in stronger, holier bonds of union,
as they knelt side by side on that memorable morning, commending their
just cause to the Ruler of nations? For several minutes after they had
resumed their seats, a profound and solemn silence reigned throughout
the house; each looking the other in the face, as if uncertain how to
set about the great work that had brought them together, and no one
willing to open the Assembly. The silence was becoming painful and
embarrassing; when Patrick Henry at length arose, and began addressing
the House, at first in a faltering voice and hesitating manner, which
soon, however, as he warmed with his subject, gave place to a bolder,
higher strain, till, long before he had ended, the hearts of his
hearers were thrilled with a flow of eloquence, the like of which none
present had ever heard before; and, when it ceased, each felt that he
had just been listening to the greatest orator, not of Virginia only,
but of all America. The burden of his declamation was the oppressive
and unlawful system of taxation devised by Great Britain against her
American Colonies; the severe restriction laid on their commerce; the
abolition of the right of trial by jury, and of choosing their own
judges; the danger that must ever threaten their liberties, if they
suffered troops of war to be quartered upon them in times of peace;
and, above all, that they should be denied the right of taxing
themselves, of making their own laws, and of regulating their internal
concerns, as seemed to their judgment wise and proper, through
representatives of their own choosing. To get redress for these and
similar grievances, was the chief, and, I may say, the only object for
which this first Congress had been called; for at that time, and for a
long time after, no one harbored such a thought as that of breaking
with the mother-country, with a view of achieving their independence.
To this end, they now applied themselves with deep and sober
earnestness, and brought to their work all the resources that their
wisdom and experience could command.

The first session of the Old Continental Congress lasted fifty-one
days. Such was the decorum with which they conducted their
proceedings, such the eloquence, force, and precision with which they
set forth their grievances, such the temperate and dignified tone that
marked their petitions to the king, and such the manliness, firmness,
and unwavering constancy with which they persisted in battling for
their right as freemen to be represented in the councils of the
nation, that thousands of their brothers across the Atlantic were
filled with wonder and admiration. And here, for once and for all, be
it known to you, my dear children, and, in justice to the British
nation as a people, never fail hereafter to bear it in mind, that
there were many, very many, perhaps a large majority, of our English
uncles, who deeply sympathized with our fathers in their troubles, and
heartily condemned the oppressive burdens heaped upon them by the king
and his ministers. Even in the House of Parliament itself were there
many of the greatest spirits of that age, who had all along opposed
these harsh and unjust measures of the government towards the
Colonies, and were now so impressed with all that marked the
proceedings of this first Colonial Congress, that they exerted
themselves in behalf of their oppressed brothers in America with more
zeal than ever before, and pleaded their cause in strains of eloquence
that shall ring in our ears, and dwell in our hearts, till history
shall tell us we have ceased to be a nation.

And well indeed they might admire and praise; for what with the
eloquence of such men as Henry and Rutledge, the learning of such men
as Hancock and Adams, the wisdom of such men as Washington, and the
pure and exalted character of them all, it was a body of men, the like
of which had never before assembled together in any age or country.

Patrick Henry, upon being asked who was the greatest man in the
Congress, replied, "If you speak of eloquence, Mr. Rutledge, of South
Carolina, is by far the greatest orator; but, if you speak of solid
information and sound judgment, Col. Washington is, beyond all
question, the greatest man on that floor." Had Mr. Rutledge been asked
the same question, he would as readily have pronounced Patrick Henry
the greatest orator, as indeed he was.

Bent on one common object, encompassed by dangers that threatened all
alike, and glowing with the same ardent and heroic spirit, they seemed
for the time to have quite forgotten that they were the natives and
representatives of many different and widely separated provinces, and
to think that they were, as Patrick Henry happily expressed it, not
Carolinians, not Pennsylvanians, not Virginians, so much as that they
were Americans; and had been sent there, not so much to represent the
will and wishes of the people of their respective provinces, as of
those of the whole American people. Thus Union became the watchword
throughout the Colonies. And by union alone were they able to make a
stand against tyranny; by it alone came off victorious in the end; by
it alone won for themselves a place among the nations; and by it alone
can their posterity hope to hold that place as a powerful, free, and
happy people.

Having done all that could be done for the present, the Congress was
adjourned, and the members returned to their homes to await the result
of the petitions and remonstrances they had sent on to the king and
parliament. Although these were couched in moderate and respectful
terms, expressing their unaltered attachment to the king and his
family, deploring that there should be aught but peace and good-will
between them, and entreating him not to drive his children to the
dreadful alternative of taking up arms in their defence, yet, like
those that had gone before them, they were received with contempt or
indifference, and failed to awaken in the king's mind any sentiment of
mercy, or desire on the part of the parliament for reconciliation with
their younger brothers in America. Here was the last, the golden
opportunity, wherein, by an act of simple justice, by an expression of
Christian kindness, they might have won back to obedience and love
this much-injured people; but under the mistaken and fatal belief
that they were all-powerful, and that, if they yielded up these
pretended rights, the colonists would never rest until they had thrown
off and trampled under foot all authority, they suffered it to pass
unheeded, lost for ever.

A short time after the adjournment of Congress, at a second Virginia
Convention, held at Richmond, Patrick Henry, in closing one of the
grandest efforts he ever made, thus boldly declared his mind: "The
time of reconciliation is past; the time for action is at hand. It is
useless to send further petitions to the government, or to await the
result of those already addressed to the throne. We must fight, Mr.
Speaker: I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the
God of hosts is all that is left us!" The great orator did but give
voice to the feelings and sentiments of thousands of pure patriots,
among whom was Washington, who represented his district in this
convention also. No one regretted more sincerely than he that they
were thus compelled to take up the sword as the only remedy of their
wrongs and grievances. In his own mind, he had fully resolved, if
needful, to devote his life and fortune to the cause; and was willing,
he told his brother, to arm and equip a thousand men at his own
expense, and lead them to the succor of Boston, at that time blockaded
by the British fleet. Grave and thoughtful, and pondering deeply all
these things, he went to his home; and, in this frame of mind, the
winter months passed slowly by.

It was now apparent to all, that open hostilities between the Colonies
and the mother-country were no longer avoidable; and on the nineteenth
of April, 1775, the battle of Lexington announced to the world that
the first blood of a desperate struggle had been shed, and that civil
war, with all its train of horrors, had begun.

When the tidings reached Mount Vernon, the impressions made on
Washington's mind were solemn and profound, if we may judge from a
letter written at the time, in which he says, "Unhappy it is to
reflect, that a brother's sword has been sheathed in a brother's
breast, and that the once-peaceful plains of America are to be
drenched with blood, or inhabited by slaves. Sad alternative! But can
a virtuous man hesitate in his choice?" Early in May, as he was just
on the eve of setting out for Philadelphia to take his seat in the
second session of the Congress, news reached him of the capture of
Ticonderoga by Col. Ethan Allen. It was a brilliant little exploit
enough, and the very kind to raise undue expectations in the many, who
looked no further into the future than to-night, when it is yet
evening; but it could have no other effect than to deepen the
thoughtfulness of a mind like Washington's, that could look through
the glare of these accidental hits of war, and behold the untried
perils still further beyond.

As the war had now begun in earnest, so dreaded and deeply deplored by
all the good men, as the only remedy left to their distress, the
deliberations of the second Congress turned chiefly on the devising of
means for their defence and safety. Towards this object, nothing
effectual could be done till some person was fixed upon to be the
leader of the army, which they had yet, in large measure, to raise,
arm, and equip.

There were not a few, who, for age, talent, experience, fortune, and
social position, as well as for the sacrifices they had already made
to the cause, were, in the opinion of their friends, and perhaps in
that of their own, justly entitled to this high distinction. After
some time spent in viewing the matter in all its bearings, and
carefully weighing the claims of each, without being able to fix upon
a choice, John Adams decided the question by addressing the House to
the following effect: That the person intrusted with a place of such
importance to Americans must be a native-born American; a man of large
fortune, in order to give him a strong personal interest in the issue
of the contest, and the means of carrying it on; he should be a man of
military experience, and accustomed to the government of large bodies
of men; he should be of tried integrity and patriotism, of great
courage and bodily endurance, and known ability; and a resident of
some central province, that in him might be blended the extreme
interests of North and South, which would tend to lessen the
jealousies of the two sections, and harmonize them, as it were, into
one. Such a province was Virginia, and such a man was Col. Washington;
whom, therefore, he commended to the favor and consideration of the
Honorable House.

Before this address was ended, Washington, perceiving that he was the
person on the point of being singled out, rose from his seat, much
agitated and embarrassed, and hastily quitted the House.

Next morning, Mr. Adams's recommendation was acted upon; and the
House, without a single dissenting voice, chose GEORGE WASHINGTON to
be _Commander-in-chief_ of all the army of the United Colonies, with
the salary of six thousand dollars a year. In his reply, Washington
expressed his grateful sense of so signal a proof of the confidence
reposed in him by his countrymen, and added,--

     "But lest some unfortunate event should happen, unfavorable to
     my reputation, I beg that it may be remembered by every
     gentleman in this room, that I this day declare, with the
     utmost sincerity, that I do not think myself equal to the
     command I am honored with. As to pay, I beg leave to assure the
     Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have
     tempted me to accept of this employment at the expense of my
     domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit
     of it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses: these, I
     doubt not, they will discharge; and that is all I desire."

In a letter to Mrs. Washington, informing her of the great change thus
made in his destiny, he deplores the hard necessity that makes it his
duty to give up the sweet pleasures of home and her society; and
exhorts her, in affectionate language, to bear up under their
separation with cheerfulness and fortitude; at the same time giving
her the gratifying assurance, that with her he could have more
happiness at Mount Vernon in one month, than he could hope to find
without her, were he to remain abroad seven times seven years. From
the tone of this letter, she must readily have guessed that the place
was not one of his own seeking.

Accordingly, on the 21st of June, General Washington,--for so we must
now call him,--having received his commission, set out to take command
of the American army, then lying before Boston, which, being occupied
by the king's troops, was in a state of siege. A company of
Pennsylvania light-horse escorted him from Philadelphia to New York,
where he was received with all the honor due, not only to the high
station he had been called to fill, but also to his exalted character
and distinguished abilities. Here he heard further particulars of the
battle of Bunker's Hill, fought near Boston a few days before. From
New York, the general-in-chief proceeded to Boston, and was greeted
everywhere on the way with the greatest enthusiasm by the people, who
came streaming in from all quarters to behold the man into whose
keeping had been intrusted the destinies of America.

Thus, my dear children, I have brought you, step by step, up to that
great event in Washington's life when his character and actions were
to be subjected to the gaze and scrutiny, not only of his own age and
country, but of all ages to come, and of all the nations of
Christendom.




XXVI.

CONCLUSION.


Here Uncle Juvinell paused, and, with a countenance of undisturbed
sobriety, emptied his ninth mug. In justice, however, to the good man,
this pattern of old-fashioned gentility, it must be borne in mind,
that the mug was a Dutch mug, and consequently a small one (as indeed
are all things Dutch, from clocks to cheeses); and also that, small as
it was, he never more than half filled it, except once or twice in the
course of an evening, when he would gird up his loins, as it were,
with a brimmer to help him over some passage in his story of unusual
knottiness and difficulty.

Willie (whose surname should have been fox or weasel or lynx), having
heretofore divided his attention between what his uncle imparted and
what he imbibed, had, by careful counting, discovered that the ninth
mug invariably closed their evening lessons: so, without waiting for
any further signal that such was now the case, he alertly bounced from
his chair, and, snatching up a basket of big red apples that black
daddy had just brought in and set on the hearth, began handing them
round to the rest of the company with a great show of playing the
polite and obliging, but taking care, when unobserved, to pick out the
largest and mellowest one of them all for himself, and smuggle it
under his coat-tail. When all were helped, he reset the basket on the
hearth, and with a grand flourish, unmasking his royal red, opened
wide his mouth, as if he would have bolted it whole: but, seeming to
think better of it, he carefully laid it in Uncle Juvinell's mug,
which it exactly filled, saying as he did so, "It goes to my heart to
part with you; but only the king of historians is worthy to enjoy the
queen of apples." Then, plunging his hand into the basket, he snatched
up another, hap-hazard, and began eating it with savage voracity, as
if made reckless by this act of self-denial. Re-seating himself as he
had chosen his apple, hap-hazard, he missed his chair, and keeled
over, bringing his heels in the air where his head should have been,
and his head on the rug where the dog and cat were, and the
half-munched plug in his mouth, plump into his windpipe, so as to
almost strangle him out of his breeches, and cause his buttons to fly
like grains from a corn-cob when thrown into a corn-sheller. Of
course, all the little folks fairly screamed with laughter, in which
even Uncle Juvinell could not help joining right heartily: nor would
he venture upon the broad wedge which he had cut out of his apple,
till his chuckle was well ended; when he remarked, that "Willie was
one of the boys we read about." To which Willie, picking himself up
again, replied, that "he rather thought he was not, just then, but
perhaps would be as soon as he could get back some of the breath he
had lost, and gather up the buttons he had shed." Then, drawing down
his waistcoat from under his arm-pits to hide a breadth of white
muslin not usually intended for the eyes of a mixed company, he
reseated himself with such care and circumspection, that the middle
seam of his breeches tallied exactly with the middle round of the
chair-back, and began mincing and nibbling his apple delicately like a
sheep, as if to show that he meant to profit by the lesson his fit of
strangling had taught him.

After a little while, when he saw that the children had had their fill
of laughter and red apples, Uncle Juvinell wiped the blade of his
knife with his bandanna, and said, "And now, my darlings, don't you
think we are getting along swimmingly?"

"Swimmingly!" they all chimed in with one voice.

"Gloriously?" again inquired Uncle Juvinell.

"Gloriously!" cried all the children at once, as pat to their uncle's
words as an echo to the sound. Whereupon the old gentleman's
spectacles shone with a lustre that was charming to see. In a moment
after, however, Bryce, the pugnacious urchin of ten, expressed himself
a little disappointed that they had had so much building of forts, and
digging and cutting of roads, and so much scouting and marching, and
so much getting ready to fight, and yet withal so little downright
fighting.

"You quite forget, Bryce, that affair of Grant's defeat there at Fort
Duquesne," said Willie. "In my opinion, that was a very decent,
respectable piece of bloodshed; and quite as good as Braddock's
disaster, as far as it goes."

"How heartless you must be, Willie, to speak so lightly of such
horrible things!" exclaimed Miss Laura with a look of refined disgust.
"To my mind, Washington's courtship and wedding, and the pleasant life
he led at Mount Vernon, are more entertaining than all your dismal
battles."

"And those charming barge-rides by moonlight," chimed in Ella, "that
the old Virginia planters used to take when they visited each other up
and down the Potomac."

"You are welcome to your courtships and your weddings and your
boat-rides by moonlight," cried Willie, turning up his nose; "but I
would not have given a good fox-hunt with old Lord Fairfax for any of
them: and what a glorious fellow Washington must have been, with his
fine horses and his fine dogs, and his jumping twenty-one feet seven
inches at a bound!"

"Oh, Willie! how can you be so wanting in respect as to call such a
man as Washington '_fellow_'?" exclaimed Laura, with a look of pious
horror. "I am astonished at you!"

"But I said he was glorious; didn't I now, Miss Over-nice?" retorted
Willie.

"Your Cousin Laura, William, is quite right in what she says,"
observed Uncle Juvinell, with something like severity in his look and
tone. "We should never speak of the good and great in other terms than
those of esteem and reverence; for the effect of such a habit is to
cultivate in ourselves those very qualities of mind and heart which
make them worthy of our love and admiration."

Willie was somewhat abashed by this mild rebuke, and apologized in a
dumb way by coughing a time or two behind his slate.

"Uncle," inquired Ella, "is transcendentalism an art or a science?"

"I think I can tell you what that is, Ella," Daniel made haste to put
in; for he never let an opportunity slip of showing off what he knew
to the best advantage.

"I did not call upon you for information, Mr. Wiseacre," said Ella, a
little nettled at her brother's air of superior wisdom.

"Nevertheless," cried Uncle Juvinell, "let us listen, and be wise.
Come, give us the benefit of your knowledge, Daniel, touching this
important matter."

"I overheard father say to you the other day," replied Daniel, without
hesitation, "that your transcendentalism, uncle, was an equal mixture
of opium, moonshine, fog, and sick-man's dreams."

"Good! you have hit it exactly!" cried Uncle Juvinell; "and, to reward
you for your diligence in picking up and storing away such precious
bits of knowledge, I promise you for your next Christmas present a
gilt-edged copy of Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress.'"

"I thank you very much, dear uncle," replied Dannie; "but, if it makes
no difference with you, I would prefer 'Josephus' to 'Bunyan.'"

"Certainly, certainly, my dear nephew; it shall be as you wish,"
replied Uncle Juvinell, a little provoked with himself for having been
so thoughtless as to overlook the fact, that Daniel, being a
curly-headed, Jewish boy, was not likely to be much interested in the
ups and downs of good old Christian's doleful pilgrimage.

"Tell me, uncle," cried John, who had an ear for rhyme, "what is meant
by taxation, and legislation by representation, in a nation. Is it
sense, or only poetry?"

"Bad poetry, but mighty good sense, my little boy," replied Uncle
Juvinell; "and, if you will be right attentive, I will endeavor to
make clear to you what is meant thereby. In a popular form of
government,--such as the one we live under,--the people tax
themselves, and make laws for themselves, through persons chosen by
themselves, and from among themselves, to serve for a certain term of
months or years in our State Legislatures or in our National
Congress, as the case may be. The persons whom the people thus
authorize to tax them and make laws, or, as it is otherwise termed, to
legislate for them, representing, as they do, the will, desires, and
wants of the communities by whom they are chosen, are called
representatives; and hence the phrase, 'taxation, and representation
by legislation.'"

"In a nation," added Johnnie, by way of giving it a finish, and to
show that it was all as clear as day to him.

"Yes, in a nation and a state too," rejoined Uncle Juvinell, with a
merry twinkle in his eye.

"Will you have the kindness, uncle," said Dannie, "to tell us the
difference between a legislature and a congress and a parliament?"

"In our own country," replied Uncle Juvinell, "a legislature is the
law-making assembly of a State, and Congress is the law-making
assembly of the whole nation; while Parliament is the great law-making
or legislative assembly of Great Britain and Ireland. The rules and
regulations in all these bodies are quite similar; and, besides being
vested with the power of laying taxes and making laws, they perform
other services necessary to the safety and welfare of the state or
nation. Thus the old Continental Congress was composed of
representatives from all the thirteen States, which entitled each,
through its representation, to one vote, and to equal weight and
influence with the rest, in the acts and deliberations of this
assembly, no matter what may have been its size and population,
whether large or small; nor what the number of its representatives,
whether one or several."

"And will you also tell me, uncle, wherein a convention differs from
all these legislative assemblies?" said Daniel, grappling manfully
with the tall words, but staggering under them nevertheless.

"Simply not being legislative at all, as the term is now generally
used in our country," replied Uncle Juvinell. "A convention is a body
of men assembled together as representatives of a party or state or
nation, for some special purpose, such as the formation of a new State
Constitution, or for making changes in an old one, or to give
expression to the views and designs of a party, and to nominate
candidates to the various offices of the government; which purpose
being effected, they are dissolved, and cease to exist or to have any
legal force."

"And why, uncle, was the name 'Continental' given to our first
Congress?" inquired Willie.

"To distinguish it from the Congress of the several States, and as the
one in which the common interest and welfare of all the States of the
continent were represented," was Uncle Juvinell's reply; and then he
added, "And hence the same term was applied to whatever belonged to
the States conjointly, and grew out of their union or confederation.
Thus, for example, besides the Continental Congress, there was a
Continental Army, raised, equipped, and supported at the joint expense
of all the States, and subject in a great measure to the control of
the Continental Congress. And there was the Continental uniform, which
was the uniform worn by an officer or a soldier of the Continental
Army. And there was the Continental currency, which was the
paper-money issued and put into circulation by the Continental
Congress, all the States unitedly holding themselves accountable for
its redemption in specie; or, in other words, binding themselves,
after having gained their independence as a nation, to take it back at
the value specified thereon, and giving to those who held it gold and
silver in exchange. But more of this in another place."

"And what is a minister, uncle?" inquired Laura. "And what is a
commissioner, uncle?" chimed in Ella. "And what is a revenue, uncle?"
put in Charlie. "And what is a remonstrance, uncle?" inquired Bryce,
following up the attack.

"Hold, you rogues! and one at a time!" cried Uncle Juvinell. "A
minister, Laura, in the sense in which we have been using the term, is
a high officer of State, intrusted with the control and management of
some office or department of the national government, such as that of
the navy or war or treasury or commerce or foreign affairs. All the
ministers, taken collectively, make up what is called the ministry;
who, besides discharging the duties of their respective offices, are
also expected to serve as counsellors to the king, and aid him in
carrying out the measures of the government. A commissioner, Ella, is
an agent appointed and authorized by another, or a number of others,
or a State, to transact some business of a private or public
character, as the case may be. A revenue, Charlie, is the income or
yearly sum of money of a State, raised from taxes on the people or
their property, from duties on foreign merchandise imported into the
country, and from the sale of public lands and other sources, to meet
the expenses of the government. A remonstrance, Bryce, is a
setting-forth in strong terms, either by writing or by word of mouth,
the facts and reasons against something complained of or opposed, as
unjust, unwise, or unadvisable."

"I can't imagine," said Daniel, with the air of one who had weighed
well in his own mind a matter of importance, "what advantage to
themselves or to the nation George the Third and his ministers could
have expected, when they laid those heavy taxes on their American
Colonies, then took from them the power to pay them by crippling their
commerce and putting a stop to their manufactures; and it seems
strange to me that Englishmen could ever have denied to Englishmen the
rights and liberties of Englishmen, without having something more to
gain." Here Daniel broke down, and scratched his head; and Uncle
Juvinell, with an approving, good-humored smile, replied, "Those very
questions, Daniel, have puzzled many an older head than yours, and
many a wiser head than mine; and, indeed, some of the most learned
historians, who have written about these matters, have expressed
themselves perplexed at this strange conduct of the king and his
ministers, and have been able to account for it only on the
supposition, that they were all, for the time being, bereft of their
wits, and therefore rendered incapable of foreseeing the tremendous
consequences of their unjust and ill-judged measures."

Much gratified at the interest the little folks had taken in such dry
matters, and seeing that they had no more questions to put to him, and
that some of the smaller ones were already nodding in their chairs,
Uncle Juvinell, by way of winding up the evening's entertainment,
concluded thus:--

"Some of you, my dear children, have read how good Christian, in his
pilgrimage to the Celestial City, went on sometimes sighingly,
sometimes comfortably, until he came to the foot of a hill called
Difficulty, where he found three roads to choose between. The one to
the right went around the bottom of the hill, and led into a
wilderness of dark woods, out of which no one ever found his way again
after venturing therein. The one to the left went likewise around the
bottom of the hill, and led into a wilderness of dark mountains, which
was even more difficult to escape from than the one to the right. But
the middle road, which was narrow and straight, went right up the
steep and flinty sides of the hill, and was the route that led direct
to Mount Zion. Not being the man to flinch from any difficulty,
however great, good Christian hesitated not a moment to choose the
middle road; and accordingly he fell from running to walking, and from
walking to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and
knees, till he had made his way to the top. Here, as you must well
remember, there met his view a stately palace called Beautiful, kept
by a company of prim, precise, proper, prudent, and pious maiden
ladies, who gave our weary pilgrim a cordial but well-considered
reception, and, besides admitting him to the hospitalities of the
house gratis, entertained him with a variety of pleasing and edifying
discourse. And you have not forgotten, either, how, when they had a
clear morning, these discreet and well-ordered damsels, to reward him
for the zeal and diligence with which he had heretofore pursued his
journey, as well as to encourage him to still further effort, led him
up to the top of their house, whence he might have a delightful view
of the Delectable Mountains, far, far away. And you also still hear in
mind, how poor Christian must needs pass through the dismal Vale of
Humiliation, and there meet in deadly fight the terrible monster
Apollyon; then through the Valley and Shadow of Death, with all its
doleful sights and sounds; then through the wicked city of Vanity
Fair; then through the gloomy domains of Doubting Castle and Giant
Despair,--all before he could hope to set foot on these Delectable
Mountains of Emanuel's land.

"Now, do you not see, my dear children, that not altogether unlike
good Christian's case, at this stage of his journey, is that of our
own at this point of our story? But a little while ago we were
trudging along, sometimes heavily, sometimes swimmingly, till by and
by we reached the bottom of our Hill Difficulty; by which, of course,
you understand me to mean the causes that brought about our
Revolutionary War. And here, had we gone to the right or the left, we
should most assuredly have wandered into a wilderness of romance and
Brobdignagian wonders, among whose mazes we would have become
entangled beyond all reasonable hope of escape. But our eyes were
opened to our danger; and like good Christian, by whose example we
might profit oftener than we do, we knew in what direction lay our
best interest, and were not to be enticed astray by the prospect of
ease or novelty, nor turned back by flinty facts and rough realities.
So straightway up the difficult hill we marched, lofty and steep as it
was; and hardly left a stone unturned till we had scrambled to the
top. This gained, we have felt it our privilege to halt and rest a
while, and refresh ourselves with a little pleasing and edifying
discourse, one with another, touching what we have seen or heard in
the course of our journey.

"We have thus surmounted the most tedious and difficult part of our
story. But still there lies before us many a hard-fought battle, many
an irksome siege, many a forlorn retreat, many a gloomy winter-camp,
and many a season of doubt and discouragement, privation and dire
calamity, through which we must pass before we can hope to set our
weary feet on the Delectable Mountains of Freemen's Land, smiling
invitingly beyond. But to reward you for the diligent attention with
which you have followed me thus far, as well as to entice you to
trudge on to the end, I will, from this elevated point, unfold to your
view a glimpse of this glorious region, ere 'the war-clouds rolling
dun' from the plains of Lexington and the heights of Bunker's Hill
have too much obscured our morning sky.

    "See yon land of shining mountains,
      Stately forests, verdant dells,
    Sun-bright rivers, sparkling fountains,
      Healthful breezes, balmy smells,
    Golden grain-fields, pleasant meadows,
      Fruitful orchards, gardens fair,
    Lasting sunshine, fleeting shadows!
      Freedom dwells for ever there!

    Hark! what song is that high swelling,
      Like an anthem dropped from heaven,
    Of some joyful tidings telling,
      Some rich boon to mankind given?
    'Tis a happy people, singing
      Thanks for Freedom's victory won;
    Valley, forest, mountain, ringing
      With one name,--great Washington.
    Through distress, through tribulation,
      Through the lowering clouds of war,
    They have risen to be a nation:
      Freedom shines, their morning-star.
    Would we reach those realms of glory,
      Would we join that righteous band,
    We must speed us in our story:
      Come, let's on to Freemen's Land!"

The next evening, the little folks, upon repairing to the library,
found their Uncle Juvinell seated, as was his wont, cross-legged in
his great arm-chair, looking with a fixed and absent gaze into 'the
glowing embers of the fire,' as if his thoughts were far away.

In his hand he held an open letter which he had just brought from the
post-office, in the contents whereof, it was evident, he had found
somewhat of a painful character; for a slight shadow had dimmed the
brightness of his otherwise placid countenance. So rare a thing as
that of a cloud on their good old uncle's sunny face caught their
notice at once; and instead of gathering round him in their usual
coaxing, teasing, bantering, frolicsome way, they seated themselves
quietly on either hand, and awaited in respectful silence until he
should rise to the surface of the deep brown-study into which he
seemed to be plunged. But the longer he sat, the harder he looked at
the fire, and the deeper he sank into his revery, till the little
folks began to fear that it would be a full hour before he would reach
the bottom and come up again.

Daniel, the young historian, sat watching his uncle's countenance with
his sharp black eyes, expecting each moment to hear him break the
silence with, "After the battle of Bunker's Hill;" or, "Washington,
upon his arrival at Boston;" or something to that effect. But, last in
his own thoughts, Uncle Juvinell still sat cross-legged in his
arm-chair, and spoke not a word. At last, just by way of reminding him
that a select and highly enlightened audience were in waiting to hear
him, Willie softly arose from his chair, and, filling the little Dutch
mug to the brim with rich brown cider, offered it to his uncle, with a
forward duck of the head and a backward jerk of the heel, which he, no
doubt, intended for a genteel bow. Uncle Juvinell took it; but set it
again, with an absent air, untasted on the table. Then, drawing his
spectacles down from his forehead, he again perused the letter he held
in his hand, with earnest attention, the shadow on his brow deepening
as he read.

When he had finished, he laid it on the table, and finally broke the
long silence; his first words falling like ice-water on the ears of
the little folks.

"Sad news for you, my dear children; sad news for us all! I have just
received a letter from my old friend and kinsman, Peter Parley, of
whom you have all heard so much, and to whom, for the many delightful
books he has written, the younger generations of America are more
indebted than perhaps to any man now living. In his letter he tells
me, that, owing to his declining health, and increasing years, he has
ceased his literary labors altogether, and betaken himself to New
Orleans, in whose milder climate he hopes he may, in some measure,
recruit his failing powers. What he says in addition to this I will
give you in his own words:--

     "The effects of that unlucky fall on the ice, while crossing
     Boston Common, so many years ago, I have felt in my right hip,
     to a greater or less degree, ever since; and within the past
     year my lameness has so much increased as to have become a
     matter of much anxiety to my friends, and some uneasiness to
     myself. Taking this in connection with the growing infirmities
     of age, I sometimes have a foreboding that I shall never return
     to Boston alive.

     "Under this impression, I now write you, my Cousin Juvinell,
     entreating you, as my nearest living kinsman and much-beloved
     friend, to come and see me at this place, and sojourn here with
     me, until, in the wisdom of a kind Providence, it be determined
     whether my span of life is to be shortened or lengthened yet a
     little more. It will be a comfort to me to have you by my side
     at the closing scene; and it may be that your cheerful presence
     and sunny humor will do more to revive me than I can hope for
     even from this mild, pleasant Louisiana air.

     "I know that your compliance with my request will for a season
     prove a serious interruption to the enjoyment of the little
     folks in your vicinity, whom you have taken under your wing,
     and to whose entertainment and instruction so much of your
     useful life is devoted. But they will, I am sure, without
     hesitation, make this sacrifice in behalf of one who has for
     many long years labored so hard and faithfully for their
     happiness and improvement. Commend me kindly to them. Hoping to
     see you at an early day, I remain, as ever, your affectionate
     friend and kinsman,

     "PETER PARLEY."

Uncle Juvinell went on: "I am gratified, my dear children, to see in
your grateful and sympathetic looks, saddened and disappointed though
I know you really to be, that you are ready and willing to sacrifice
what pleasure and entertainment my company and conversation may afford
you, to the comfort and wishes of this venerated and excellent man. My
going-away at this moment will, it is true, cause a sad interruption
to our story of the life of Washington; but next Christmas, if we all
be spared, and your Uncle Juvinell keep his memory fresh and green, we
will gather together again in this very room, and take it up where we
now drop it, and follow it through all its eventful changes to the
glorious and happy end. Meanwhile, ponder well in your minds what I
have already told you of the childhood, youth, and early prime of this
illustrious man. And after all, now that I give the matter a second
thought, we could not have been interrupted at a more suitable place;
for the account I have given up to this point needs scarcely a single
important particular to make it a complete and separate story. We
have followed him step by step, and seen how he rose, first from the
boy-farmer to the youthful surveyor, from that to the young colonel,
from that to the legislator of more mature years, and lastly from that
to commander-in-chief of the armies of a young and rising nation.

"The history of his career after this period is, in fact, so closely
connected with that of his country, as to be altogether inseparable
from it.

"And again I repeat, ponder well in your minds what I have already
told you, as being, after all, the part most necessary for you at
present to know. Ever strive to keep his example before your eyes,
ever to cherish his virtues in your hearts. Like him, be industrious
in your habits, diligent in your studies, polite in your manners,
orderly in your dress, peaceable in your disposition, upright in your
dealings, faithful in your friendships, patient under trials,
persevering under difficulties, strangers to covetousness, content
with little, moderate with much, generous, self-denying, courageous in
well-doing, pure in heart, devout in spirit, modest before men,
reverent to your parents, respectful to your superiors, humble before
God; and, like him, let the clear light of truth shine forth in all
your words, in all your actions, in all your looks and gestures, in
all your secret thoughts, and in your very souls. Be all this, that
men may reverence you, that angels may honor you, that God may bless
and reward you."

Here Uncle Juvinell paused; and, as he looked round on the saddened
faces of his little auditors, a moisture crept out softly upon his
eyelashes, and dimmed the brightness of his spectacles. "It grieves me
much, my dearest children," said he, after a moment or two,--and there
was a tremor of deep fatherly feeling in his voice,--"it grieves me
much, that our happy little circle must be broken up. It will be but
for a season, however; and, when we meet again, we shall be happier
than had we not parted at all. On Monday, I take the stage-coach for
Louisville; and there I take the steamer 'Eclipse' for New Orleans. As
it is a long journey I have before me, I must needs write many
letters, and do a deal of packing, before setting out: so we will sing
our evening hymn now, and separate for the night."

Then, joining their voices together, they sang that beautiful hymn,
"Though far away from friends and home." At the second line,
however,--"A lonely wanderer I may roam,"--the little folks fairly
broke down; their hearts rising into their throats from very grief,
and choking their voices: but, with all the ease of a professed
singing-master, Uncle Juvinell, though his heart was full too, glided
at once from the lowest bass to the highest treble, which he carried
alone, until some of the children, getting the better of their
feelings, chimed in with him, when he softly dropped to the very
bottom of his bass again.

The hymn ended, the little folks came one by one, and, without
speaking a word, embraced and kissed their dear old uncle, this best
of men; he laying his gentle hand upon their bowed heads, and blessing
them with more than his usual fervor.


THE END.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Farmer Boy, and How He Became
Commander-In-Chief, by Morrison Heady

*** 