Way down in Vir-gin-i-a, near a small creek, called Bridg-es Creek,
there is a shaft of white stone;--on it is the name of George
Wash-ing-ton and the date of his birth: Feb-ru-ar-y 22d, 1732.
On this spot once stood the big brick house in which George Wash-ing-ton
was born; it was built in 1657 by John Wash-ing-ton; his grand-son,
Au-gus-tine, was the fa-ther of the lit-tle boy who be-came our first
pres-i-dent. The moth-er of George Wash-ing-ton was Ma-ry Ball; so sweet
and fair was she, when she was a young girl, that she was known as
"Sweet Mol-ly."
Now she was not the first wife of Au-gus-tine Wash-ing-ton; and he had
two boys, Law-rence and Au-gus-tine, when he made her his wife. These
boys were so kind to their small broth-er George, when he was young,
and gave him so much help, all through his life, that their names should
stay in your minds. When George was three years old his home was burned
to the ground, and his fa-ther built a fine new house, just o-ver the
riv-er from where the cit-y of Fred-er-icks-burg now stands. Here George
went to his first school, and the name of the man who taught him was so
queer, it will not go out of your mind;--it was "Hob-by." In those old
days, the boys wrote to their boy-friends, just as they do at this day.
See what George, when he was nine years old, wrote to his best friend,
Rich-ard Hen-ry Lee:--"Dear Dick-ey, I thank you ver-y much for the
pret-ty pic-ture book you gave me. Sam asked me to show him the
pic-tures and I showed him all the pic-tures in it; and I read to him
how the tame el-e-phant took care of his mas-ter's lit-tle boy, and put
him on his back and would not let an-y-bod-y touch his mas-ter's lit-tle
son. I can read three or four pages some-times with-out miss-ing a word.
Ma says I may go to see you and stay all day with you next week if it
be not rain-y. She says I may ride my po-ny. He-ro, if Uncle Ben will
go with me and lead He-ro. I have a lit-tle piece of po-et-ry a-bout
the book you gave me, but I mustn't tell you who wrote the po-et-ry.
"G. W.'s com-pli-ments to R. H. L.
And likes his book full well.
Hence-forth will count him as his friend,
And hopes ma-ny hap-py days he may spend.
"Your good friend,
"GEORGE WASH-ING-TON."
"I am go-ing to get a whip top soon, and you may see and whip it."
You see the boys in those old days were fond of books, and toys and
hors-es just as the boys of to-day are; and there is a tale of George,
and a young colt, which shows that he was a brave and strong boy, who
did not fear to tell the truth, though he had done wrong. He and some
of his boy-friends were in a field, in which were kept some young colts,
some of which had been used.
The boys caught one colt, put a bit in its mouth, and held it, while
George sprang on its back. The colt, mad with fear, sprang in the air,
tore through the field, and tried in vain to throw the boy; at last he
leaped with such force, that he broke a blood ves-sel, and fell to the
ground dead. Just at this time George's moth-er came out, and saw the
dead colt. She asked the boys if they knew how he died. "Yes, mad-am,"
at once said her own boy; and then he told the whole truth. There are
more tales of the boy-life of George and all show that he was a brave,
strong boy, full of life and fun, and at the head in games and sports
of all kinds.
His fa-ther died when he was on-ly e-lev-en (11) years old; but his
moth-er lived to be an old, old la-dy, who was, you may be sure, ver-y
proud of her great son.
Af-ter his fa-ther's death George made his home with his broth-er,
Au-gus-tine, un-til he was six-teen (16) years old; and the short notes
which he wrote to his moth-er were not like those he sent to his
boy-friends, or like those which you boys and girls write to-day. He
be-gan, "Hon-ored Mad-am;" and end-ed the stiff lit-tle note,--"Your
du-ti-ful son."
In those days folks lived on great big farms, or plan-ta-tions, as they
were called, and raised to-bac-co, which was sold for much mon-ey in
Eng-land. George's fa-ther had a ver-y large plan-ta-tion and ma-ny
slaves to work on it; some day this would all be-long to George, and so
he was taught how to write in a big round hand, how to do sums, and to
look out for those who were in his care.
All through these years there was talk of war; for a cru-el war be-tween
the French and Eng-lish, known as King George-'s War, had be-gun; and
the boys, who heard so much talk of war, of course played at it; and
George was ev-er at the head, ev-er lead-ing these bands of young
sol-diers; he longed, just as boys would to-day, to throw a-way his
books, to leave school, to go to the true war and bear a real gun; and
when he was fif-teen, his broth-er Law-rence, who was a sol-dier, tried
to make his moth-er let him join the na-vy, as he was too young to go to
the war. But this moth-er was a ver-y wise wo-man, and said no; that his
place was at home un-til he knew how to care for the great plan-ta-tion
and the ma-ny slaves that in five or six years would be his.
Now, at this time, this great land of ours was so wild that it was hard
to tell how much land a man owned, just where one great farm end-ed and
the next be-gan; and a man who knew the land so well that he could tell
folks just these things would be of much use; so George now be-gan to
give much time to just this work; and so well did he do it that soon
folks came to him when they were in doubt.
In fact this work led, as you shall see, straight up to the
pres-i-dent's seat. His broth-er Law-rence had mar-ried Anne Fair-fax,
and in their home at Mt. Ver-non George met ma-ny great men; a-mong
oth-ers was Lord Thom-as Fair-fax, who owned a piece of land so large
that he did not know how big it was; he sent George to find this out;
and now this young boy had a rough piece of real work to do.
In March, 1748, he and a young friend, George Wil-liam Fair-fax, left
the ease of Mt. Ver-non to live in the wild woods, where they would see
on-ly Indians, or, at the best, rough white men; in the log huts of the
white men they found so much dirt that, af-ter one tri-al, rath-er than
sleep on dir-ty straw, with no sheet, and but one torn, thin blan-ket,
they ei-ther lay on the bare floor, near the big wood-fire, or else
built a huge fire in the woods and lay close to it on the earth. They
had to swim their hors-es o-ver streams; they shot wild deer and birds,
and of-ten cooked and ate them, alone in the great wild woods, far from
e-ven the camp of the In-di-ans. Once, at least, we know, from a little
book in which each night George wrote of what they had done that day,
that they saw a grand war-dance of the In-di-ans; the mu-sic by which
they danced was made by a pot half full of wa-ter, with a deer-skin
o-ver the top, and a gourd filled with shot; this must have made queer
mu-sic to dance by.
[Illustration: MOUNT VERNON--THE HOME OF WASHINGTON.]
The boys were gone six weeks, and did their work so well that the
gov-ern-or heard of it, and he made George a "pub-lic sur-vey-or;" that
is, it was his place to find out the size of all the new farms; and his
word was to be law. He must have done this work well, too, for the lines
which he laid down were the ones used by the new States years and years
af-ter his death.
Now, for weeks at a time, he was a-lone in the woods with the In-di-ans;
liv-ing in their camps, and learn-ing of their life; they taught him
ma-ny things; and they, in turn, learned to love and trust him; this
lone-ly life made him a grave and qui-et man; one who talked lit-tle;
and it taught him to think for him-self, at an age when most boys are
told what to do by their par-ents and friends.
When he was not in the woods, hard at work, he was at Mt. Vernon;
and here the talk was of the great lands in the west; and of the war
bet-ween the Eng-lish and the French, who were each try-ing to drive
a-way the oth-er, and were both try-ing to force out the In-di-ans. It
was pret-ty hard for the In-di-ans, who now had not on-ly to fight each
oth-er, but the white men, too. At last they took sides, some with the
Eng-lish, some with the French; and a fierce war broke out o-ver the
land near the O-hi-o River; no white men had yet lived there, and both
sides wished to own it.
The French moved ver-y fast, and built great forts, and sent men there
to keep the Eng-lish a-way; it was no "play-war" in which Wash-ing-ton
now took part; he had real men under him; but, just as he be-gan to
learn what real war was, he had to go to the West In-dies with his
broth-er Law-rence, who was ver-y sick. They spent the win-ter there,
but Law-rence did not get well, and came back to Mt. Ver-non in the
spring, where he died in Ju-ly, 1752.
He left his land in charge of Wash-ing-ton, who now made his home
there; and when his broth-er's daugh-ter died he be-came the own-er.
Now, while Wash-ing-ton had been a-way, the French had been ver-y
ac-tive; they had made friends with the In-di-ans, and had e-ven dared
to send some Eng-lish tra-ders in a ship to France.
At this act Eng-land was up and in arms, and sent o-ver great ships and
ma-ny men to help fight the French. The first step that Eng-land took
was to send men to warn the French a-way from the Eng-lish forts in
Penn-syl-va-ni-a; and Wash-ing-ton, who knew bet-ter than a-ny one else
the rough wild woods, and who was a friend of the In-di-ans, led a
lit-tle band of sev-en men through the dense, dark woods and o-ver
riv-ers filled with float-ing ice, up to the French lines. He told the
chief man of the French troops just what the Eng-lish said, but this
French man would not give up one inch of ground that he had won from the
In-di-ans, and gave Wash-ing-ton a note to take back with him, in which
he said as much.
Of course Eng-land could take but one course now; and so the long,
fierce war known as the "Sev-en Years' War" be-gan. Wash-ing-ton was
made a colo-nel, and showed so much skill, and was so brave, that in a
short time he took charge of part of the troops of Gen-er-al Brad-dock.
In June, 1755, the troops made a start for Fort Du-quesne, where they
were to stay; and on this trip, while they were deep in the woods, the
In-di-ans, with fierce shrieks and wild cries, sprang on them from
the rocks and trees. The horse on which Wash-ing-ton rode was shot;
Gen-er-al Brad-dock got such a wound that he died, and ma-ny poor men
were killed. Here again Wash-ing-ton act-ed so brave-ly, and was so
wise, that the sol-diers said that Brad-dock had lost the day and
Wash-ing-ton had saved the ar-my.
At Brad-dock's death Wash-ing-ton was made chief of all the troops in
the col-o-nies; and the first thing he did was to place men near the
homes which the white men were mak-ing in the new lands, and so help
these ear-ly set-tlers to stop the In-di-ans when they came to rob them
and to burn up their lit-tle log cab-ins, for a great fear of the red
men was o-ver all the land. Now, when the war came to a close with the
fall of the French, we find that Wash-ing-ton is a very great man, that
his troops love him ver-y much, and that the heads of the states feel
that he is a strong, wise man, and one whom they can trust. All this
time, you know, he was an Eng-lish sol-dier, fight-ing for Eng-land;
but, deep in his heart, and in the hearts of all the brave men who
fought with him, there was, we may be sure, a love for this fair land,
and a long-ing for its best good.
After the war was at an end Wash-ing-ton, who was ver-y glad to give
up his post, mar-ried Mrs. Eus-tis, a young wid-ow with two lit-tle
chil-dren, a girl of six years and a boy of twelve, and went to Mt.
Ver-non to live. For twen-ty years now he lived the qui-et life he loved
so well. He took good care of his farm, was hap-py with his fam-i-ly and
friends, and grew, day by day, in power. He did not lead an i-dle life,
you may be sure; he rose ear-ly, had his break-fast at sev-en in sum-mer
and eight in win-ter; then rode o-ver his farm and saw that all was
right. He had his din-ner at two o'clock; then had an ear-ly tea, and
of-ten was in bed by nine o'clock. Twice a year he sent to Lon-don for
things need-ed in the way of dress for his fam-i-ly and slaves, for
tools, books, drugs, etc. Some of the things he bought for the chil-dren
I think you boys and girls would like, too. He sent for "tops, lit-tle
books for chil-dren to read, a doll, and oth-er toys."
[Illustration: MARTHA WASHINGTON.]
Wash-ing-ton loved hors-es and was ver-y fond of hunt-ing. The name of
his pet horse was "Blue-skin"; he must have looked ver-y fine when he
was on horse-back; for he was a big man, with bright blue eyes and high
color, and he wore a red vest with gold lace on it, and a dark blue
cloth coat. Mrs. Wash-ing-ton rode in a fine car-riage drawn by four
hors-es, and her driv-er wore the Wash-ing-ton col-ors of red, white
and gold. These old days were full of life and fun, but there was work
as well, and soon came more talk of war.
All through these twen-ty years this land was grow-ing big-ger and
big-ger; and at last came the time when folks did not see why they should
not be free from Eng-land and rule their own land in their own way.
At last Eng-land made a law called the "Stamp Act," which put so high a
tax on goods that folks here would not pay it; tea was one of the things
on which this tax was put; and when Eng-land sent o-ver three ships
full of tea to Bos-ton, our men would not let it be ta-ken from the
ships, but broke the great chests and threw all the tea in the wa-ter.
This act is known as the "Bos-ton Tea Par-ty"; and now the first signs
of war were seen; a fierce fight took place at Lex-ing-ton, one Sun-day
morn-ing, be-tween the Brit-ish and A-mer-i-can troops; and now, all
o-ver the land, went up the cry, "To arms! To arms!"
This is how the great War of In-de-pend-ence be-gan; and you know the
name of the man who was at once put at the head of the A-mer-i-can
ar-my--George Wash-ing-ton, of course! Now he is not an Eng-lish-man
fight-ing for his king, but an A-mer-i-can fight-ing to free his own
land. A long, hard fight it was, too, but not once did Wash-ing-ton
or his brave men lose heart. He drove the Brit-ish out of Bos-ton, and
then, for fear they would go to New York, he sent men there; but the
Brit-ish ships went to Can-a-da in-stead, and made that land theirs.
It was just at this time that Rich-ard Hen-ry Lee, the boy-friend of
Wash-ing-ton, made a move in Con-gress that our land should say to
the whole world that it would be free from Brit-ish rule; and so the
Dec-lar-a-tion of In-de-pend-ence was drawn up and sent out to the
world on July 4, 1776.
[Illustration: LIEUTENANT-GENERAL BURGOYNE.