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 slope 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.

The Farmer Boy, and How He Became Commander-In-Chief · 第 50 / 90 题