THE REST OF THE WAR.
Up to this time, most of the fights had been round Bos-ton.
But Wash-ing-ton now saw that there would be a move made on
New York; so he sent Gen-er-al Lee to help keep the town, and
he soon went there too. Some men came to their aid from the
South, and Lord Howe, with a great mass of Eng-lish troops,
were there to meet them. Lord Howe had word from King George
first to speak of peace, but he did not know to whom he should
speak. He wrote a note to "George Wash-ing-ton;" but our chief
would not read it, as he said his true name, as head of the
troops, should be on it. So Lord Howe wrote no more. He saw
that the hour to fight had come.
At first the A-mer-i-can troops came to grief, and Wash-ing-ton
and his men had to make their way back for a time. The Brit-ish
took heart from this, and our men were sad. They were poor,
and had few clothes, and some had no shoes for that long, hard
march; so that one could track their steps by the blood on the
ground.
Wash-ing-ton saw there was no time to lose, and he must strike
a swift blow. He knew there were troops of Ger-mans at Tren-ton,
and that they still held to the ways of their land. Do you know
the name of that day when you have a tree with nice gifts and
lights hung on it? It is the day when Christ was born, and which
we keep to this time for His sake. Well, Wash-ing-ton knew these
folk would cling to the ways of their old homes. That they would
keep the feast and be off their guard. So on the eve of that
day he set out to march on them with his men. A storm of sleet
came up in the night, but they went on, and when the dawn rose,
these brave men, who had come through the snow and ice, stood
in ranks for the fight. Some one wrote a note, and a man ran
all the way to Tren-ton to warn the Ger-mans. But they were
at cards. The Gen-er-al had his cards in his hands, and it was
his turn to play. He must look at his cards first.
Yes, his life is at stake, but he does not know it. In the dim
gray of the dawn our men march in on them. There is the sound
of wheels and a shout. Co-lon-el Kall hears the drums beat,
and the cards drop from his hands--too late! He got his death
in that fight, and all his men were held and bound. These things
put our troops in heart once more, and it was the wish of all
to go on; but they had a hard, sad time through the days of
storm and cold at Val-ley Forge.
If we could see that camp at Val-ley Forge, in our mind's eye,
we would know how much those poor men had to bear in this war
to make us free. They had lost some by death, and more were
ill. They had so few clothes to put on when they slept, that
some sat up all night by the fires to keep warm. At one time
there were few who had shoes, and the sick had to lie on the
bare ground, for want of straw. The head men had to wear old
quilts or bed spreads round in the camp, to keep them warm,
for want of the right kind of clothes.
The troops were not paid; or the sort of pay they got would
not buy them food. Food was so scarce that, at last, the pass
word was, "No food--no man." There were men in this camp who
had been at the court of kings; who had fed on rich food, and
had wine to drink, and now they were like to starve.
All this time Wash-ing-ton did his best to keep up the heart
of his troops. He did not tell Con-gress how few and worn they
were; and there were those who gave him blame that he did not
do great things with these few worn out men. All this time the
Brit-ish troops in Phil-a-del-phia had what they chose of good
fare, and led a gay life. Some of them, with Gen-er-al Bur-goyne
at their head, in the mean time, had two or three fights with
our men, but found they did not gain much. At last they were
glad to go back. Just as they made a move to do so, our men
had the luck to hem them in on all sides in one place and won
the day. This was at Sar-a-to-ga. This was good news to those
in Val-ley Forge. It brought cheer to them, and they felt brave
to go on.
In Eng-land men did not know what to make of our luck. It made
a stir in France, where we had friends; and some of their young
men came here to join our troops. We had some great French men
with us at that time. One whose name is still held in love by
all--the great La-fa-yette.
At this time France made a vow to us that she would stand our
friend, and give us aid. When this was known in Eng-land, fears
rose on all sides; for they knew how much help France could
give, and how strong it would make us. They sent men over to
talk to us of peace, but it was too late. The A-mer-i-cans had
no thought but to be free, and they would take no less than
that. But these men still came, and thought they would see what
bribes could do. A large sum of gold was held out to Gen-er-al
Reed, if he would aid their cause. He said, "I am not worth
so much; but such as I am, the King of Eng-land has not so much
gold as would buy me!"
[Illustration: PAUL JONES'S SEA FIGHT.]
But the aid from France was less than they thought it would
be. Fleets were sent, but they gave small help to the cause.
And so the war went on for three years more. At times our men
would make a good fight, and then there would be dark days when
the foe had things all his own way. The Eng-lish had paid some
tribes of In-di-ans to fight on their side; and once there was
a sad scene, where men and their wives and babes were put to
death by these fierce wild men. This was not war, of course.
We give it a much worse name.
Then there were sea-fights. In one of these, the men on the
ships fought three hours, and the ships took fire more than
once; but at last the Brit-ish gave up. In that ship the man
who took the lead on our side was Paul Jones.
There is a tale told of what the brave wife of one of those men,
to whom we give the name of Friends, did for our cause at this
time. Gen-er-al Howe made his home in her house, a long low
brick one, at Tren-ton. He said to her one day, "I want to have
some friends here to night, and I would like to have the spare
back room to meet them in."
"It shall be as thee says," said Friend Ruth.
"See that all the folks in the house are in bed at a good hour,"
said Gen-er-al Howe.
"I will move that they go," said Friend Ruth.
So when the men came to see Gen-er-al Howe that night, it was
all still in the house. Friend Ruth let them in.
"You may go to bed and stay till I call," said Gen-er-al Howe.
Ruth went to her room and lay down awhile; but did not take
off her clothes. She must know what these men meant to do. At
last she took off her shoes and went to the door of the room,
and put her ear to the key hole. This is what she heard. Some
one reads, "Our troops will make a move by stealth on the foe,
and we will take them ere they know we are on them!"
There was no more sleep for Friend Ruth that night. She lay
in her bed till dawn; but all her aim was to think of a plan
to help our troops, and not to let them fall in the snare. At
last she hit on a plan to get out of the lines. She was in need
of some flour; and to get flour, she must go to a grist mill,
for they did not sell it at stores in those days. Gen-er-al
Howe could not say he would not let her get flour, as he ate
at her house; so he gave her a pass. While they ground the grist
for her at the mill, she rode on as fast as she could, till
she came to one of our guards. She said some words to him in
a low voice, and rode back, got her flour, and was home in no
time.
When Gen-er-al Howe came on our troops the next day, he found
them all drawn up in rank and file in good trim to meet him.
He thought it best not to have a fight at all; and it was a
strange thing to him how they could have known of his move.
Down in the South there were brave men at the head of our troops.
One was Ma-ri-on, who led his men through the woods by paths
that were known to few. They gave him the name of the "Swamp
Fox," and the Brit-ish cast slurs on him, and said he would
not come out for a fight in a bold way, but took their posts
at night, and when they were off guard. But he gave them a proof
of what he could do, when he and Greene fought them and won
the day in a fair field. Greene made such a name in this fight
that he took rank next to Wash-ing-ton from that time.
We have to tell a sad tale now of one of our own men--a man,
too, who had won fame in the war. He had shown that he was brave;
but men did not like him much, for he thought more of his own
gain than of his land, and he had the wish for a high place,
which he did not get. His name was Ben-e-dict Ar-nold, and his
bad act was, that he made a plan to sell his own land to the
Eng-lish. He wrote to the foe all he could of the moves our
troops were to make, and their state, but he did not sign his
own name. Once he had his camp at the head of some men at West
Point, and he made up his mind to give this place, which was
strong with forts, to the Brit-ish. This he would have done,
and the whole land would have come to grief, but for a chance
that brought the vile plan to light.
One day a young man rides down the path by the stream. There
is a wood of oak near. On the ground, by the trees, there are
three young men. They have a game of cards. They have been out
all night, and have sat down to rest.
They hear the sound of hoofs.
"Some one on his way to New York for trade," says one.
His friend peers out. "No; his clothes are too good for that,"
he says.
All three spring to their feet, and cry, "Halt!"
The man on the horse stops, and says, "I hope you are on our
side."
"Which side is that?" cry the men.
"The side of the King."
"All right," they say; for they wish to find out more.
"Thank God, I am once more with friends!" he says, as he takes
out his gold watch. "I must get on. I am in great haste."
"We can not let you go," say the men.
"But I have a pass."
"Whose?"
"Gen-er-al Ar-nold's."
"You must get off your horse."
"But, I tell you, you will get in a scrape if you stop me. Read
this pass."
[Illustration: MA-JOR AN DRÉ.]
"No good. You said you were Brit-ish; we must search you."
"I have naught."
"We will see. Take off your coat."
The coat is laid off, and the boots. Ah, what is this? The hand
of Ar-nold in this; and "West Point" the date. A shout went
up, "He is a spy!"
He was a young Eng-lish man by the name of An-dré. He took his
watch and purse, and said he would give them all, if they would
let him go free. They would not, but took him to the near A-mer-i-can
Post to try him. Of course, what Ar-nold had done all came out.
He had known this would be the case, for as soon as the news
was brought that An-dré was in the hands of our men, he took
leave of his wife, gave a kiss to his boy, and sped on his way
to an Eng-lish ship. He got to Eng-land, and was paid a large
sum of gold; and they gave him a fine place at the head of some
troops; but no man would make a friend of him. The Eng-lish
had been glad to use him, but they would not take him by the
hand.
You may think what a life he had. His own land had cast him
out, but he came back to fight her at the head of the foe. But
the new land where he had made his home had no real place for
him. Once in the great house in Eng-land, where the wise men
meet to talk of their laws, one rose to make a speech. But when
he saw Ar-nold in a seat near him, he said, "I will not speak
while that man is in the house." Long years after, when one
of the great men of France had it in his mind to come to this
land, he went to Ar-nold for some notes to his friends. Ar-nold
said, "I was born in A-mer-i-ca. I spent my youth there; but
Ah! I can call no man in A-mer-i-ca my friend."
In the mean time An-dré, the young Eng-lish man, who had met
Ar-nold, and got the plans which were to give us up in to the
hands of the foe, was shown to be a spy. There was but one doom
for a spy. He must be hung. All felt for his fate. He was young,
and had a fine face, and the air of good birth; but his hour
had come. Tears were shed at his death; though he was our foe.
All knew he was a brave man, who had not been slow to risk his
life in the cause of his land. He thought he was right, and
took all means to serve his own ends. For Ar-nold, who would
have sold his own, there was but hate, and they gave him a name
which would serve to show what his crime had been to all time--Ar-nold
the Trai-tor!
All this while the French had been our friends; but they had
not met with a chance to show what they could do, till a great
fight came which made an end of this war. This was at a place
by the name of York-town, in Vir-gin-ia. Wash-ing-ton was there
with his troops, and the French Gen-er-al, who had a hard name,
which you may learn one of these days, was with him at the head
of his men. They took the best works of the Brit-ish, and made
such a brave stand, that Lord Corn-wal-lis thought it would
be wise to leave by night, with all his troops. But a storm
came, and they could not get off, so they all had to give up
to Wash-ing-ton.
There was a grand scene that day, in the fall of 1781, when
Wash-ing-ton and his French friends stood in two ranks, and
their old foes took up a slow march by them, and laid down their
arms as they went. Great was the joy in all the land when the
news was known. Those who woke that night in Phil-a-del-phia,
heard the watch cry, "Past two o'clock and Corn-wal-lis is ours!"
When the news came to Con-gress, they sent out word for a day
to be set, in all the States, to give thanks to God, and all
who were held for debt, or for crime, or what cause it might
be, were set free, that they might share the great joy.
Well might they all be glad, for this meant the end of the war.
It had cost them dear in gold as well as lives; but it had been
worse for Eng-land than for them. The sums she had spent were
vast, and one could not count the lives she had lost. Add to
this the fact that she had lost this great land, which had once
been all her own, and now was made free. Our land now took a
new name. You can read it, I know, though it is not in short
words, "The U-nit-ed States of A-mer-i-ca."