CHAPTER IX.
Considering her extreme youthfulness, it was a hard and toilsome lifethat had now begun for Ethel. Day and night she had charge of her littlebrother and sisters; she must wash and dress them--or teach them to dothose things for themselves, and see in every way to their comfort andamusement; also teach Nannette and Harry their little lessons. Besidesshe must learn her own, keep their room in order, and spend an hour ortwo every day in the use of her needle, under the instruction of Mrs.Coote, who was very strict and exacting, though she occasionallybestowed a few words of warm praise when she considered it to have beenwell earned.
On such occasions Ethel's cheek would flush and her eyes brighten as shelistened, a feeling akin to love for the usually cold-mannered womantugging at her heart strings; but ere she could summon up courage forthe expression of her pleasure and budding affection, the cold, distantmanner had returned, and chilled and disappointed she could say no morethan, "Yes, ma'am; thank you for praising my work. I mean to try alwaysto do it as well as ever I can."
Meantime the intimacy between the Eldons and little Mary Keith grew andincreased. From the first they seemed to take great pleasure in eachother's society, and would play together in unbroken harmony by thehour; generally in Mr. Keith's grounds as Mrs. Coote was entirelywilling to have them there, Mary's mother and grandmother no less so;and when Ethel's tasks were finished she was allowed to join the others.Her gentle, quiet, ladylike manner made her a great favorite with theladies and she was sometimes allowed to do her stint of needleworkthere, sitting quietly with them while the younger children romped andplayed about the garden or on the porches.
There were some pictures on the wall of the pretty sitting room wherethe ladies spent most of their time, one of which particularly attractedEthel's attention; it was a woodland scene--a little valley, a smallcreek with a dam, running through, it, near by a horse tethered to asapling, and at a little distance, partly hidden by a thicket, a noblelooking man in Continental uniform, on his knees in prayer.
"Mrs. Weston, who is that gentleman praying there in the woods?" Ethelat length ventured to ask.
"That is a picture of our Washington at Valley Forge," answered thelady, bestowing a look of loving admiration upon the kneeling figure.
"Washington?" repeated Ethel enquiringly. "I think I never heard of himbefore. He was a good man, I suppose?"
"Yes, my dear, and a great one also. I think there was never a better orgreater mere man. He is called the father of his country because, withthe help of God, he did more to gain her liberties than any other man."
"Oh, if it isn't too much trouble, will you please tell me about him andwhat he did?" Ethel asked eagerly, adding, "I'm only a little girl, youknow, ma'am, and haven't lived in America very long; so I don't knowmuch about its history."
The lady smiled, and softly stroking the child's hair, "Do you callyourself English, my dear?" she asked in a pleasant tone.
"No-o, ma'am," returned Ethel doubtfully; "papa was English but--butmamma, you know, was born on this side of the ocean, so I suppose I'monly half English, and Cousin George told me I'd have to be an Americannow, as I've come to live in this country."
"And you don't object?"
"Oh, no, ma'am; America seems a very good country and my cousins are allAmericans, because they were born here."
"Yes; the generality of us Americans think these United States, takenall together, make the best land the sun shines on, as it certainly isthe freest."
"Are all the people in it good, ma'am?" queried Ethel innocently.
"No, my dear, I am sorry to have to acknowledge that that is far frombeing the case. True very many of the wicked ones--burglars, murderers,and the like--are of foreign birth or parentage, but some are natives andthe children of natives. But I must answer your question aboutWashington. He was the great-grandson of a gentleman named JohnWashington, who came over from England and settled in Virginia, whichwas then an English colony, as were the other twelve States. There werethirteen in all of those that formed the Union in the beginning. Do youknow anything about how the colonies were settled in the first place?"
"No, ma'am."
"Well, then, I must tell you that one of these days. But now you want toknow about the picture. What you see there occurred during the first warwith England, the war which set us free and made the colonies States.This country was then far smaller and poorer than it is now; for we havenow many large and flourishing States; more than three times as many asthere were then."
"Yes, ma'am; Cousin George told me I ought to be glad to be an American,because this was the very best and freest country in the world."
Mrs. Weston gave the little girl a pleased smile. "I entirely agree withCousin George," she said, "and ever since I can remember have been gladand thankful that God gave me my birth in this dear, Christian land,many of whose people came here when it was but a desolate wilderness, inorder that they might be free to worship God according to the dictatesof their own consciences.
"But I must tell you about the picture. Washington was thecommander-in-chief of our armies during the war of the Revolution, whichended in making us free States.
"That war began in the year 1775; the Declaration of Independence wasmade in the summer of 1776; but it took years of fighting to induce theKing of England and his Cabinet to acknowledge that we were actually afree and independent people, no longer subject to their oppressive acts;a long and terrible struggle was necessary to bring that about.
"By the fall of 1777 a good many battles had been fought; one ofthem--the battle of Saratoga--won a great victory for the Americans; butthings had not gone so well for us farther south. Washington hadsuffered defeat at the battle of the Brandywine and in consequence theBritish had got possession of Philadelphia. Our troops must if possiblebe kept together through the cold winter, and that in some place fromwhich the British could be watched and prevented from getting away toany great distance, to do mischief to the people of the land.
"There was no town that would answer the purpose, and the place thatsuited best was Valley Forge on the Schuylkill River, twenty-one milesabove Philadelphia. It was a little valley lying between two ridges orhills and covered by a thick forest. The poor soldiers had no tents andwere in sore need of clothes, also of blankets and shoes. They--even theofficers--were astonished when Washington ordered the trees cut down andlog huts built of them. But they spent their Christmas holidays at thework and were much surprised and delighted at their success, when theyfound that they had changed the forest into cabins thatched with boughs,in the order of a regular encampment.
"But oh, what suffering they still had to undergo for lack of food andclothing! Many were almost, some entirely, naked.
"For more than two years the war had been going on and for four monthsthey had been fighting the enemies of their country, marching andcounter-marching day and night in order to baffle the designs of the foeagainst their dear native land; and they had come to this spot withnaked, bleeding feet and destitute of supplies of every kind.
"It was a dreadful winter for that poor army. Washington did all hecould, but it was out of his power to relieve anything like all thesuffering; and Congress was strangely apathetic, and slow to do what itmight have done to give relief.
"Because of their sad neglect the condition of the poor, patientsoldiers grew worse and worse so that men died for want of straw orother bedding to raise them at night from the damp, cold earth; andsometimes they had no fuel to make fires, for want of shoes andstockings to enable them to go through the snow and cut it in the woodsnear at hand; often they had no meat, sometimes no bread, and there wasdanger that they would perish with famine or have to disperse in searchof food."
"And why didn't they?" asked Ethel. "I should think anything would bebetter than staying there freezing and starving to death."
"Because they loved their country and her liberties better than theyloved themselves," replied Mrs. Weston. "They were fighting for her, fortheir own homes, wives
, and children, yet, as I have said, Congress wasmost shamefully neglecting them, while most of the people in thevicinity of their camp were Tories--that is in favor of the British,unwilling to do anything for the cause of freedom, and ready to help thefoes of their country, for which these poor, starving, bleeding,freezing men were willing to lay down their lives.
"But Washington was their friend, doing all in his power for them,showing a fatherly concern and fellow-feeling for all their troubles andprivations, exerting himself in every way to help and encourage them,and urging Congress to come to their relief.
"Washington was a Christian man; so he carried the troubles anddistresses of his poor soldiers, and the woes of his bleeding country toGod, who is the hearer and answerer of prayer. Probably the woods were amore private place than any other to which he had access at that time;and I presume he never knew that any earthly creature had ever seen himat his devotions."
"Who was it that saw him, Mrs. Weston?" asked Ethel.
"The man at whose house he was lodged: Mr. Isaac Potts. He owned thedam, and one day was strolling toward it, along the bank of the creek,when he heard a solemn voice, and walking quietly in the direction ofthe sound, he saw Washington's horse tied to a sapling and near by, in athicket, the dear man himself on his knees in prayer, with the tearscoursing down his cheeks."
"Did Washington see him--Mr. Potts?" asked Ethel, gazing with eagerinterest into the lady's face.
"No; doubtless his eyes were closed, and Mr. Potts, feeling that he wason holy ground, stole quietly away, back to his own house, with eyesfull of tears. His wife noticed them as he entered and asked what wasthe matter. Then he told her what he had just seen, adding, 'If there isanyone on this earth whom the Lord will listen to, it is GeorgeWashington; and I feel a presentiment that under such a commander therecan be no doubt of our eventually establishing our independence, andthat God in his providence has willed it so.'"
"And that's what the picture is about?" Ethel said musingly, gazing uponit with redoubled interest. "I'm glad the Americans had such a good manfor their general, and that God helped them to get free."
"Yes, as one of our poets has said:
"Oh, who shall know the might Of the words he utter'd there? The fate of nations there was turned By the fervor of his prayer.
"But wouldst thou know his name Who wandered there alone? Go, read enroll'd in Heaven's archives, The prayer of Washington."
"Ah, I like those verses," Ethel said, her eyes shining. Then turningthem again upon the picture, "He was praying for his poor soldiers then,wasn't he? I think you said so."
"No doubt; I know his heart bled for them in their sore extremities, forthey were sore indeed. I have read that one day a foreign officer waswalking with Washington among the huts where his soldiers werequartered, when they heard voices coming from between the logs of whichthey were built: 'No pay, no provisions, no rum!' and one poor fellowwhom they saw going from one hut to another, was naked except that hehad a dirty blanket wrapped about him. Then that officer despaired ofever seeing the Americans gain their freedom."
"They did though, and I'm ever so glad of it!" Ethel said withsatisfaction. "But--but you said they wanted rum. Were they drunkards,Mrs. Weston?"
"In those days, my dear, almost everybody took a little and did notthink it wrong," replied the lady, adding, "though now we think it is."
"I hope God heard Washington's prayer and soon made that bad Congresstake better care of the poor soldiers who were fighting for them," Ethelsaid enquiringly, still gazing earnestly at the picture.
"I am sorry to have to say that it was some time before Congress didmuch for their relief," returned Mrs. Weston. "Indeed two winters laterthey--the poor soldiers--were in much the same condition at Morristown,where they were encamped at that time, having only beds of straw on theground and but a single blanket to each man; while still their clothingwas very poor and some had no shoes.
"It was a very severe winter, the snow early in January being from fourto six feet deep and so obstructing the roads that they could not travelback and forth to get provisions, and in consequence were often for daysat a time without bread, then again as long without meat; and the coldand hunger made the poor fellows so weak that they were hardly fit forfighting or for building their huts."
"Oh, the poor, poor things!" exclaimed Ethel, tears starting to hereyes. "Did they ever try to run away or to steal something from thefarmers to eat, when they were so dreadfully hungry?"
"Yes, they sometimes did steal sheep, hogs, and poultry; but since theywere starving and their just wages kept back from them, one can hardlyfeel like blaming them very severely for taking a little food from thosewhom they were defending.
"There was only one decided mutiny; that was on the 1st of January,1781, by about two thousand men of the Pennsylvania troops, stationed atMorristown and under the command of General Wayne.
"They had made their preparations secretly, appointing a sergeant majortheir commander, calling him major-general. At a preconcerted signalall, excepting a part of three regiments, paraded under arms withoutofficers, marched to the magazines and supplied themselves withammunition and provisions; then they seized six fieldpieces and tookhorses from General Wayne's stables to draw them."
"And nobody tried to stop them?" exclaimed Ethel enquiringly.
"Yes; hearing what was going on their officers tried to do so, callingon the men who did not join in the revolt to help. But the mutineersfired, killing a captain and wounding several others; then they orderedthe men who had not revolted to come over to their side, threateningthat if they did not they would kill them with their bayonets; and theywent over. Then General Wayne tried his influence with the men, who allloved him, using both persuasion and threats to bring them back to theirduty. But they refused to listen even to him, and when he cocked hispistol at them they pointed their bayonets at his breast, saying, 'Werespect and love you; you have often led us into the field of battle,but we are no longer under your command; we warn you to be on yourguard, for if you fire your pistol or attempt to force us to obey yourcommands we will instantly put you to death.'
"Wayne then tried to persuade them, speaking to them of their love fortheir country. They answered by reminding him how shamefully Congresswas treating them. He spoke of the pleasure and encouragement theirconduct would give to the enemy. In reply to that they called hisattention to their tattered garments and how thin they themselves werefrom starvation; they told him they dearly loved the cause of freedomand wanted to fight its battles, if only Congress would see to it thattheir sore need was relieved."
"I don't think that was asking too much, do you, Mrs. Weston?" askedEthel.
"No, not at all."
"And did General Wayne give them what they asked and had a right toask?"
"He could not do that, but he supplied them with provisions and thenmarched them to Princeton, where he heard their demands and referredthem to the civil authority of Pennsylvania.
"In the mean time the British general, Sir Henry Clinton, heard thestory of the revolt, and not understanding the spirit and motives of thetroops, sent a British sergeant and a New Jersey Tory named Ogden, witha written offer to them that if they would lay down their arms and marchto New York they should receive in hard cash the money owed them by theAmerican Congress, be well clothed, and have free pardon for havingfought against the King of England; and not be required to fight on hisside and against their country, unless they chose to do so of their ownaccord."
Ethel looked intensely interested. "And did they do it?" she asked halfbreathlessly.
"No, indeed," replied Mrs. Weston; "they were not fighting for money,but for liberty, their homes, their wives and little ones; but the moneyCongress owed them, the food and clothes, were necessary even to keepthem alive, so that they felt justified in using their weapons inredressing their grievances while still looking with horror upon thearmed oppressors of their country, and feeling that they would ratherdie tha
n prove traitors to her. 'See, comrades,' one of them said to theothers, 'he takes us for traitors. Let us show him that America canfurnish but one Arnold, and that America has no truer friends thanourselves.'
"The others approved his sentiments. They immediately seized Clinton'sspies and papers and took them to General Wayne, stipulating that themen should not be executed till their own affairs with Congress weresettled, and that if their complaints were not attended to the prisonersshould be delivered up to them again when they demanded them."
"Did Congress do what they asked of them?" inquired Ethel.
"Yes; then the spies were executed, and the reward which it appears hadbeen offered for their apprehension, would have been given to the menwho had seized them, but the brave, patriotic fellows refused to acceptit, poor as they were, saying that necessity had forced them to demandjustice from Congress, but they wanted no reward for doing their duty totheir bleeding country."
"I like them for that!" exclaimed Ethel, "and I don't think they were atall to blame for making that Congress pay them what they had earned byworking and fighting so long and so hard."
"No, nor do I," returned Mrs. Weston, "and I am proud to own them as mycountrymen."
"It is a very interesting story; thank you for telling it to me, Mrs.Weston," said Ethel. "I'd like to know more about that good GeneralWashington and that war. All the English people didn't want theAmericans abused so, did they?"
"Oh, no, my dear! Some of them tried hard to have their wrongsredressed. Some day I will tell you more about it, but now I hear Mrs.Coote calling you."