picture them. Midnight conflagration, torture and outrage in every form which fiends could devise, became the amusement of bands of howling savages, who came and went like the wind.

Fifteen hundred demons, calling themselves Indian braves, in gangs of sometimes but eight or ten, and again of several hundred, swept the frontier, making themselves merry with the shrieks of their victims, and showing no mercy to mothers or maidens or helpless infancy. The French made no attempt to pursue their advantage, but quietly retired to Fort Duquesne, there to await another assault, should the English decide to make one.

A force nominally of two thousand men, but in reality of but about seven hundred, was raised, and placed under the command of Washington, to protect the scattered villages and dwellings of this vast frontier. For three years, Washington consecrated all his energies to this arduous and holy enterprise. It would require a volume to record the wonderful and awful scenes through which he passed during these three years. In after-life, Washington could not endure to recall the spectacles of suffering which he witnessed, and which he could not alleviate. At the time, he wrote to the governor,

"The supplicating tears of the women, and moving petitions of the men, melt me into such deadly sorrow, that I solemnly declare I could offer myself a willing sacrifice to the butchering enemy, could that contribute to the people's ease."

One day, as Washington, with a small portion of his troops, was traversing a part of the frontier, he came upon a single log-house. It was in a little clearing which the settler had made by his axe, and which was surrounded on all sides by the forest. As they were approaching the clearing, they heard the sound of a gun. Apprehending some scene of violence and horror, they crept cautiously through the underbrush until they came in sight of the settler's cabin. Smoke was curling up through the roof, while a party of savages were rioting around, laden with plunder, and flourishing dripping scalps. Upon the appearance of the soldiers, the savages, with the fleetness of deer, dashed into the forest. Washington thus describes the scene which met their eyes:

"On entering, we saw a sight, that, though we were familiar with blood and massacre, struck us, at least myself, with feelings more mournful than I had ever experienced before. On the bed, in one corner of the room, lay the body of a young woman, swimming in

blood, with a gash in her forehead which almost separated the head into two parts. On her breast lay two little babes, apparently twins, less than a twelvemonth old, with their heads also cut open. Their innocent blood, which once flowed in the same veins, now mingled in one current again. I was inured to scenes of bloodshed and misery; but this cut me to the soul. Never in my after-life did I raise my hand against a savage, without calling to mind the mother with her little twins, their heads cleft asunder."

Eagerly the soldiers followed in the trail of the savages. They had gone but a few steps ere they found a little boy and his father, who had been working in the fields, both dead and scalped. The father had been ploughing, and the boy was driving the horse. When the father was shot down, the terrified boy had run some distance towards his home ere he was overtaken and murdered. Thus the whole family was swept away. Such were then the perils of life on the frontier. No home was safe. The inmates of every cabin were liable, at midnight, to be roused by the yell of the savage; and, while the torch was applied to the dwelling, the tomahawk would sink into the brain. Washington writes,

"On leaving one spot for the protection of another point of exposure, the scene was often such as I shall never forget. The women and children clung round our knees, beseeching us to stay and protect them, and crying out to us, for God's sake, not to leave them to be butchered by the savages. A hundred times, I declare to Heaven, I would have laid down my life with pleasure, even under the tomahawk and scalping-knife, could I have insured the safety of those suffering people by the sacrifice."

In November, 1758, Fort Duquesne was wrested from the French, and the Valley of the Ohio passed from their control forever. The Canadas soon after surrendered to Wolfe, and English supremacy was established upon this continent without a rival. Washington was now twenty-six years of age. The beautiful estate of Mount Vernon had descended to him by inheritance. On the 6th of January, 1759, he married Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of great worth and beauty. Washington was already wealthy; and his wife brought with her, as her dower, a fortune of one hundred thousand dollars. After the marvellously tumultuous scenes of his youth, he retired with his bride and her two children to the lovely retreat of Mount Vernon, where he spent fifteen years of almost unalloyed happiness.

He enlarged the mansion, embellished the grounds, and by pur chase made very considerable additions to his large estate. The stern discipline of life had subdued his passions. His habits were frugal, temperate, and methodical. His imposing mansion, the abode of a generous hospitality, was visited by the most distinguished men from all lands. Though a strict disciplinarian, he was a considerate and indulgent master. It was his invariable rule to retire to rest at nine o'clock, whether he had company or not. He rose at four o'clock in the morning. The religious interests of the little community around him deeply engaged his attention, and the gospel ministry received from him very efficient support. The following letter, which he wrote to a nephew who was chosen to the legislative assembly, contains admirable advice, and is an interesting development of his own character:

"If you have a mind to command the attention of the house, speak seldom, but on important subjects. Make yourself perfectly master of the subject. Never exceed a decent warmth; and submit your sentiments with diffidence. A dictatorial style, though it may carry conviction, is always accompanied with disgust."

At Mount Vernon, Washington's occupation was that of a large planter, raising wheat and tobacco. The wheat was ground upon the estate, and shipped for sale. The tobacco was sent to England; from which country then almost every article of domestic use was imported. This splendid estate consisted of eight thousand acres, four thousand of which were in tillage: the remainder was in wood or uncultivated land. During these serene years of peace and prosperity an appalling storm was gathering, which soon burst with fearful desolation over all the colonies.

We now come down to the notable year 1775. The British ministry, denying the colonists the rights of British subjects, insisted upon exercising the despotic power of imposing taxes upon the colonists, while withholding the right of representation. All American remonstrances were thrown back with scorn. Hireling soldiers were insultingly sent to enforce obedience to the mandates of the British, crown. The Americans sprang to arms, called a Congress, and chose George Washington commander-inchief. A more perilous post man never accepted. The whole population of the United States then did not exceed three millions; being almost a million less than the present population of the single State of New York. England was the undisputed mis

tress of the seas, and the strongest military power upon the globe. The little handful of colonists, who stepped forth to meet this Goliah in deadly conflict, had neither fleet, army, military resources, nor supplies. The odds were so fearful, that it seems now strange that any courage could have met the encounter.

Defeat to Washington would prove not merely ruin, but inevitably an ignominious death upon the scaffold. Sublimely he stepped forward from his home of opulence and domestic joy, and accepted all the responsibilities of the post. The green in Lexington had already been crimsoned with the blood of patriots, and the battle of Bunker's Hill had rolled its echoes through Christendom. To a friend in England, Washington wrote,

"The Americans will fight for their liberties and property. Unhappy it is, though, to reflect that a brother's sword has been sheathed in a brother's breast, and that the once happy and peaceful plains of America are either to be drenched in blood or to be inhabited by slaves. Strange alternative! But can a virtuous man hesitate in his choice?"

To the Congress which elected him commander-in-chief of the American forces, he replied,

"I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge. That is all I desire."

To his wife, who was ever the object of his most respectful regard and tender affection, he wrote that it was his greatest affliction to be separated from her, but that duty called, and he must obey. He said that he could not decline the appointment without dishonoring his name, and sinking himself even in her

esteem.

Twelve thousand British regulars were then intrenched on Bunker's Hill and in the streets of Boston. About fifteen thou sand provincial militia, wretchedly armed, and without any discipline, occupied a line nearly twelve miles in extent, encircling, on the land side, Charlestown and Boston. The British war-ships held undisputed possession of the harbor. These veterans could, apparently with ease, at any time, pierce the thin patriot line.

It requires long discipline to transform a man, just taken from

the endearments of home, into merely a part of that obedient, unquestioning machine called an army. A thousand trained soldiers are ever regarded as equal in military power to three or four times that number fresh from the pursuits of peaceful life. The British had opened fire at Lexington on the 19th of April, 1775. On the 2d of July, Washington arrived in Cambridge, and took command of the army. The ceremony took place under the elm-tree which still stands immortalized by the event. Gen. Gage was commander of the British forces. He had been the friend of Washington during the seven-years' war, and had fought by his side at the time of Braddock's defeat; and yet this Gen. Gage seized every patriot upon whom he could lay his hands in Boston, and threw them all, without regard to station or rank, into loathsome dungeons. To Gen. Washington's remonstrance against such barbarity, he returned the insolent reply,

"My clemency is great in sparing the lives of those who, by the laws of the land, are destined to the cord. I recognize no difference of rank but that which the king confers."

oners.

Washington at first resolved to retaliate upon the English prisBut his generous nature recoiled from the inhumanity of punishing the innocent for the crimes of the guilty. He countermanded the order, directing that the prisoners should be treated with all the humanity consistent with their security. In the subsequent and more successful war which the British Government waged against popular rights in Europe, they practised the same inhumanity. The French prisoners were thrown into hulks, and perished miserably by thousands. Napoleon, like Washington, refused to retaliate upon the helpless captives in his hands for the infamous conduct of their government.

At length, after surmounting difficulties more than can be enumerated, Washington was prepared for decisive action. In a dark and stormy night of March, he opened upon the foe, in the city, from his encircling lines, as fierce a bombardment as his means would possibly allow. Under cover of this roar of the batteries and the midnight storm, he despatched a large force of picked troops, with the utmost secrecy, to take possession of the Heights of Dorchester. There, during the hours of the night, the soldiers worked, with the utmost diligence, in throwing up breastworks which would protect them from the broadsides of the English fleet. Having established his batteries upon those heights, he