General Braddock came to Virginia with his splendid-looking fighting men. When he had studied the situation there, one of the first things he did was to ask Colonel George Washington of Mount Vernon to come with him as one of his chief a.s.sistants. Washington at once accepted.
He saw that now the King of England "meant business," and that if General Braddock were as wise as he was brave, the trouble in the Ohio country might be speedily ended and the French driven out.
But when he had joined General Braddock, he discovered that that brave but obstinate leader thought that battles were to be fought in America just the same as in Europe, and that soldiers could be marched against such forest-fighters as the French and Indians as if they were going on a parade. Washington did all he could to advise caution. It was of no use, however. General Braddock said that he was a soldier and knew how to fight, and that he did not wish for any advice from these Americans who had never seen a real battle.
At last everything was ready, and in July, 1755, the army, led by General Braddock, marched off to attack Fort Duquesne, which the French had built at Pittsburgh.
Washington had worked so hard to get things ready that he was sick in bed with fever when the soldiers started; but, without waiting to get well, he hurried after them and caught up with them on the ninth of July, at a ford on the Monongahela, fifteen miles from Fort Duquesne.
The British troops, in full uniform, and in regular order as if they were to drill before the King, marched straight on in splendid array.
Washington thought it the most beautiful show he had ever seen; but he said to the general: "Do not let the soldiers march into the woods like that. The Frenchmen and the Indians may even now be hiding behind the trees ready to shoot us down. Let me send some men ahead to see where they are, and let some of our Virginians who are used to fighting in the forest go before to clear them away." But General Braddock told him to mind his own business, and marched on as gallantly as ever.
Suddenly, just as they reached a narrow part of the road, where the woods were all about them, the Frenchmen and Indians who were waiting for them behind the great trees and underbrush opened fire upon the British troops, and there came just such a dreadful time as Washington had feared. But even now Braddock would not give in. His soldiers must fight as they had been drilled to fight in Europe; and when the Virginians who were with him tried to fight as they had been accustomed to, he called them cowards and ordered them to form in line.
It was all over very soon. The British soldiers, fired upon from all sides and scarcely able to see where their enemies were, became frightened, huddled together, and made all the better marks for the bullets of the French and Indians hiding among the trees and bushes.
Then General Braddock fell from his horse, mortally wounded; his splendidly-drilled redcoats broke into panic, turned, and ran away; and only the coolness of Washington and the Virginia forest-fighters who were with him saved the entire army from being cut to pieces.
Washington fought like a hero. Two horses that he rode were killed while he kept in the saddle; his coat was shot through and through, and it seemed as if he would be killed any moment. But he kept on fighting, caring nothing for danger. He tried to turn back the fleeing British troops; he tried to bring back the cannon, and, when the gunners ran away, he leaped from his horse and aimed and fired the cannon himself. Then with his Virginians, that Braddock had so despised as soldiers, he protected the rear of the retreating army, carried off the dying general and, cool and collected in the midst of all the terrible things that were happening, saved the British army from slaughter, buried poor General Braddock in the Virginia woods, and finally brought back to the settlements what was left of that splendid army of the King. He was the only man in all that time of disaster who came out of the fight with glory and renown.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Discussion. 1. Tell what you can of the contest for territory in America between the French and the English. 2. Who was General Braddock and for what was he sent to America? 3. Compare Washington and General Braddock in as many ways as you can. 4. Why did Washington do all he could to help General Braddock in spite of the fact that he knew Braddock was not acting wisely? 5. How did Washington gain glory from the engagement? 6. What are you told on page 84 about the value to us of studying the lives of great Americans? What do you owe to Washington and Lincoln? 7. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: advisers; situation; caution; ford; array; gallantly; huddled; collected; disaster; renown. 8. p.r.o.nounce: Duquesne; Monongahela; mortally; wounded.
SERVICE
SOMEBODY"S MOTHER
(AUTHOR UNKNOWN)
The woman was old and ragged and gray And bent with the chill of the winter"s day.
The street was wet with the recent snow, And the woman"s feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long Alone, uncared for, amid the throng Of human beings who pa.s.sed her by, Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout.
Glad in the freedom of "school let out,"
Came the boys like a flock of sheep, Hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray Hastened the children on their way, Nor offered a helping hand to her, So meek, so timid, afraid to stir, Lest the carriage wheels or the horses" feet Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop, The gayest laddie of all the group; He paused beside her and whispered low, "I"ll help you across if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm She placed, and so, without hurt or harm, He guided her trembling feet along, Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went, His young heart happy and well content.
"She"s somebody"s mother, boys, you know, For all she"s aged and poor and slow;
"And I hope some fellow will lend a hand To help my mother, you understand, If ever she"s poor and old and gray, When her own dear boy is far away."
And "somebody"s mother" bowed low her head In her home that night, and the prayer she said Was, "G.o.d be kind to the n.o.ble boy Who is somebody"s son and pride and joy."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Discussion. 1. Here is a story about a boy who saw a chance to do a service and did it; how was he different from his companions? 2. What were they interested in? 3. Wasn"t he also eager to do what they did?
4. Why did he stop and help the old woman? 5. How did the woman feel toward the boy? 6. How do you think his own mother would have felt if she had seen him? 7. Why is this incident a splendid example of service? How was this boy doing his part as a good citizen?
THE LEAK IN THE DIKE
PHOEBE CARY
The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day, And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play: "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me; And take these cakes I made for him-- They are hot and smoking yet; You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set."
And Peter left the brother With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow"s tender shade; And told them they"d see him back before They saw a star in sight, Though he wouldn"t be afraid to go In the very darkest night!
For he was a brave, bright fellow With eye and conscience clear; He could do whatever a boy might do, And he had not learned to fear.
And now with his face all glowing And eyes as bright as the day With the thoughts of his pleasant errand, He trudged along the way; And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place-- Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face!
Yet he somehow caught the brightness Which his voice and presence lent; And he felt the sunshine come and go As Peter came and went.
And now as the day was sinking, And the winds began to rise, The mother looked from her door again, Shading her anxious eyes, And saw the shadows deepen And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter Along the level track.
But she said: "He will come at morning, So I need not fret or grieve-- Though it isn"t like my boy at all To stay without my leave."
But where was the child delaying?
On the homeward way was he; And across the dike while the sun was up An hour above the sea; He was stopping now to gather flowers, Now listening to the sound, As the angry waters dashed themselves Against their narrow bound.
"Ah! well for us," said Peter, "That the gates are good and strong, And my father tends them carefully, Or they would not hold you long!
You"re a wicked sea," said Peter; "I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our land and homes; But our sluices keep you safe."
But hark! through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child"s face pales with terror, And his blossoms drop to the ground.
He is up the bank in a moment And, stealing through the sand He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender childish hand.
"Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful thing that means.
A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart Grows faint that cry to hear.
And the bravest man in all the land Turns white with mortal fear, For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sea When loosed in its angry might.
And the boy! he has seen the danger And, shouting a wild alarm, He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm!
He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep pa.s.sing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch The answer to his cry.
And he hears the rough winds blowing, And the waters rise and fall, But never an answer comes to him Save the echo of his call.
So, faintly calling and crying Till the sun is under the sea, Crying and moaning till the stars Come out for company, He thinks of his brother and sister, Asleep in their safe warm bed; He thinks of his father and mother, Of himself as dying--and dead; And of how, when the night is over, They must come and find him at last; But he never thinks he can leave the place Where duty holds him fast.
The good dame in the cottage Is up and astir with the light, For the thought of her little Peter Has been with her all the night.
And now she watches the pathway, As yester eve she had done; But what does she see so strange and black Against the rising sun?
Her neighbors are bearing between them Something straight to her door; Her child is coming home, but not As he ever came before!