One hundred and fifty years ago a sturdy, hard-working farmer lived near
the southern bank of the Potomac River, in what was then the English
colony of Virginia. On the 22d day of February, 1732, a son was born in
the modest farm-house, who afterward came to be the most famous, and one
of the noblest, of Americans. His name was George Washington. He grew up
a healthy, hardy boy, quiet in his ways, fond of study, and still more
fond of out-door sport. His playmates loved him because he was fair and
generous, and looked up to him as a leader, because he had a way of
doing what he set out to do.
George's father died when he was only eleven years old, but his mother
proved a good care-taker for him. She was a bright-minded woman, gentle
but firm, and George always loved her dearly.
At the age of seventeen he began to earn his own living as a surveyor.
It was no light work in those days, for the country where he had most to
do was in the backwoods. Many a day he trudged through the forest from
dawn to sunset, and lay down at night with nothing but a blanket between
him and the stormy sky. But he was faithful and careful, and got plenty
of work.
[Illustration: BIRTH-PLACE OF WASHINGTON.]
From early boyhood Washington had a strong liking for a soldier's life.
He used to train his school-mates as soldiers, was an eager student of
drill and tactics, expert in the use of the sword, and a skillful
horseman. At that time the Indians swarmed through the forest in the
back country, and were often urged on by the French (who claimed the
Ohio and Mississippi valleys as their own) to attack the whites. So the
colony of Virginia had to keep a good many men under arms to protect the
homes and the lives of the people. When Washington was about twenty-two
years old he became a Major in this little army, and devoted a great
deal of time and hard work to training his men.
In 1755 the French and Indians became so troublesome that quite a large
army was sent over from England to clear the borders of them. General
Braddock was at their head, and he asked Washington to go with him, with
the rank of Colonel, as one of his aides; that is, to be always with
him, and help him with advice, or in carrying orders, and in any way he
could. The gallant young officer was glad to go. The English General did
not know much about fighting in the woods, and his slow and stately
march toward the Ohio did not suit Washington's ideas, for he knew that
nothing could be done against the French unless it was done swiftly.
When the army neared the French fort, at what is now Pittsburgh,
Washington, who was on his back in an ambulance, sick with fever,
insisted on going to the front, for he knew there would soon be
fighting, and hard fighting, too. The fighting began before it was
looked for. The British troops crossed the Monongahela River, and
marched up a wooded hollow toward the French fort. As they swept up the
hollow in close ranks, with gay red uniforms and gleaming arms, there
suddenly blazed upon them, from unseen guns on every side, a murderous
fire, before which they shrank quickly back. Startled, but not cowed,
their officers rallied them again and again; but they could not see the
enemies whose fire was mowing them down, and they slowly and in great
disorder tried to get back across the river.
General Braddock was mortally wounded. More than half the army were
killed or wounded. Colonel Washington behaved "with the greatest courage
and resolution." He rode from point to point carrying orders, and seemed
reckless of death. "I had four bullets through my coat," he wrote to his
brother, "and two horses shot under me, yet I escaped unhurt, although
death was levelling my companions on every side of me."
Fifteen years later an old Indian, who was in the fight on the French
side, told him that he had fired at him many times, and ordered his
young warriors to do so. None of the shots hit, and the Indians,
thinking the young officer was under the special care of the Great
Spirit, ceased to fire at him.
After this battle, Colonel Washington was kept in bed for four long
months with a fever, which was made worse by his exposure on the
battle-field. He had little more hard fighting to do, but he learned
many a good lesson from the war--especially to rely on himself, and to
study his own way out of any troubles that he met. His fame went, too,
to the other colonies, and the young Colonel of Militia was becoming
known as a man on whose courage and faithfulness and sound good sense it
would do for his country to lean in time of trial.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PUCK AND BLOSSOM.
From the German of Marie Von Olfers.