Lives of the Presidents Told in Words of One Syllable Part 1

Lives of the Presidents Told in Words of One Syllable.

by Jean S. Remy.

LIVES OF THE PRESIDENTS.

GEORGE WASH-ING-TON.

Way down in Vir-gin-i-a, near a small creek, called Bridg-es Creek, there is a shaft of white stone;--on it is the name of George Wash-ing-ton and the date of his birth: Feb-ru-ar-y 22d, 1732.

On this spot once stood the big brick house in which George Wash-ing-ton was born; it was built in 1657 by John Wash-ing-ton; his grand-son, Au-gus-tine, was the fa-ther of the lit-tle boy who be-came our first pres-i-dent. The moth-er of George Wash-ing-ton was Ma-ry Ball; so sweet and fair was she, when she was a young girl, that she was known as "Sweet Mol-ly."

Now she was not the first wife of Au-gus-tine Wash-ing-ton; and he had two boys, Law-rence and Au-gus-tine, when he made her his wife. These boys were so kind to their small broth-er George, when he was young, and gave him so much help, all through his life, that their names should stay in your minds. When George was three years old his home was burned to the ground, and his fa-ther built a fine new house, just o-ver the riv-er from where the cit-y of Fred-er-icks-burg now stands. Here George went to his first school, and the name of the man who taught him was so queer, it will not go out of your mind;--it was "Hob-by." In those old days, the boys wrote to their boy-friends, just as they do at this day.

See what George, when he was nine years old, wrote to his best friend, Rich-ard Hen-ry Lee:--"Dear d.i.c.k-ey, I thank you ver-y much for the pret-ty pic-ture book you gave me. Sam asked me to show him the pic-tures and I showed him all the pic-tures in it; and I read to him how the tame el-e-phant took care of his mas-ter's lit-tle boy, and put him on his back and would not let an-y-bod-y touch his mas-ter's lit-tle son. I can read three or four pages some-times with-out miss-ing a word.

Ma says I may go to see you and stay all day with you next week if it be not rain-y. She says I may ride my po-ny. He-ro, if Uncle Ben will go with me and lead He-ro. I have a lit-tle piece of po-et-ry a-bout the book you gave me, but I mustn't tell you who wrote the po-et-ry.

"G. W.'s com-pli-ments to R. H. L.

And likes his book full well.

Hence-forth will count him as his friend, And hopes ma-ny hap-py days he may spend.

"Your good friend, "GEORGE WASH-ING-TON."

"I am go-ing to get a whip top soon, and you may see and whip it."

You see the boys in those old days were fond of books, and toys and hors-es just as the boys of to-day are; and there is a tale of George, and a young colt, which shows that he was a brave and strong boy, who did not fear to tell the truth, though he had done wrong. He and some of his boy-friends were in a field, in which were kept some young colts, some of which had been used.

The boys caught one colt, put a bit in its mouth, and held it, while George sprang on its back. The colt, mad with fear, sprang in the air, tore through the field, and tried in vain to throw the boy; at last he leaped with such force, that he broke a blood ves-sel, and fell to the ground dead. Just at this time George's moth-er came out, and saw the dead colt. She asked the boys if they knew how he died. "Yes, mad-am,"

at once said her own boy; and then he told the whole truth. There are more tales of the boy-life of George and all show that he was a brave, strong boy, full of life and fun, and at the head in games and sports of all kinds.

His fa-ther died when he was on-ly e-lev-en (11) years old; but his moth-er lived to be an old, old la-dy, who was, you may be sure, ver-y proud of her great son.

Af-ter his fa-ther's death George made his home with his broth-er, Au-gus-tine, un-til he was six-teen (16) years old; and the short notes which he wrote to his moth-er were not like those he sent to his boy-friends, or like those which you boys and girls write to-day. He be-gan, "Hon-ored Mad-am;" and end-ed the stiff lit-tle note,--"Your du-ti-ful son."

In those days folks lived on great big farms, or plan-ta-tions, as they were called, and raised to-bac-co, which was sold for much mon-ey in Eng-land. George's fa-ther had a ver-y large plan-ta-tion and ma-ny slaves to work on it; some day this would all be-long to George, and so he was taught how to write in a big round hand, how to do sums, and to look out for those who were in his care.

All through these years there was talk of war; for a cru-el war be-tween the French and Eng-lish, known as King George-'s War, had be-gun; and the boys, who heard so much talk of war, of course played at it; and George was ev-er at the head, ev-er lead-ing these bands of young sol-diers; he longed, just as boys would to-day, to throw a-way his books, to leave school, to go to the true war and bear a real gun; and when he was fif-teen, his broth-er Law-rence, who was a sol-dier, tried to make his moth-er let him join the na-vy, as he was too young to go to the war. But this moth-er was a ver-y wise wo-man, and said no; that his place was at home un-til he knew how to care for the great plan-ta-tion and the ma-ny slaves that in five or six years would be his.

Now, at this time, this great land of ours was so wild that it was hard to tell how much land a man owned, just where one great farm end-ed and the next be-gan; and a man who knew the land so well that he could tell folks just these things would be of much use; so George now be-gan to give much time to just this work; and so well did he do it that soon folks came to him when they were in doubt.

In fact this work led, as you shall see, straight up to the pres-i-dent's seat. His broth-er Law-rence had mar-ried Anne Fair-fax, and in their home at Mt. Ver-non George met ma-ny great men; a-mong oth-ers was Lord Thom-as Fair-fax, who owned a piece of land so large that he did not know how big it was; he sent George to find this out; and now this young boy had a rough piece of real work to do.

In March, 1748, he and a young friend, George Wil-liam Fair-fax, left the ease of Mt. Ver-non to live in the wild woods, where they would see on-ly Indians, or, at the best, rough white men; in the log huts of the white men they found so much dirt that, af-ter one tri-al, rath-er than sleep on dir-ty straw, with no sheet, and but one torn, thin blan-ket, they ei-ther lay on the bare floor, near the big wood-fire, or else built a huge fire in the woods and lay close to it on the earth. They had to swim their hors-es o-ver streams; they shot wild deer and birds, and of-ten cooked and ate them, alone in the great wild woods, far from e-ven the camp of the In-di-ans. Once, at least, we know, from a little book in which each night George wrote of what they had done that day, that they saw a grand war-dance of the In-di-ans; the mu-sic by which they danced was made by a pot half full of wa-ter, with a deer-skin o-ver the top, and a gourd filled with shot; this must have made queer mu-sic to dance by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MOUNT VERNON--THE HOME OF WASHINGTON.]

The boys were gone six weeks, and did their work so well that the gov-ern-or heard of it, and he made George a "pub-lic sur-vey-or;" that is, it was his place to find out the size of all the new farms; and his word was to be law. He must have done this work well, too, for the lines which he laid down were the ones used by the new States years and years af-ter his death.

Now, for weeks at a time, he was a-lone in the woods with the In-di-ans; liv-ing in their camps, and learn-ing of their life; they taught him ma-ny things; and they, in turn, learned to love and trust him; this lone-ly life made him a grave and qui-et man; one who talked lit-tle; and it taught him to think for him-self, at an age when most boys are told what to do by their par-ents and friends.

When he was not in the woods, hard at work, he was at Mt. Vernon; and here the talk was of the great lands in the west; and of the war bet-ween the Eng-lish and the French, who were each try-ing to drive a-way the oth-er, and were both try-ing to force out the In-di-ans. It was pret-ty hard for the In-di-ans, who now had not on-ly to fight each oth-er, but the white men, too. At last they took sides, some with the Eng-lish, some with the French; and a fierce war broke out o-ver the land near the O-hi-o River; no white men had yet lived there, and both sides wished to own it.

The French moved ver-y fast, and built great forts, and sent men there to keep the Eng-lish a-way; it was no "play-war" in which Wash-ing-ton now took part; he had real men under him; but, just as he be-gan to learn what real war was, he had to go to the West In-dies with his broth-er Law-rence, who was ver-y sick. They spent the win-ter there, but Law-rence did not get well, and came back to Mt. Ver-non in the spring, where he died in Ju-ly, 1752.

He left his land in charge of Wash-ing-ton, who now made his home there; and when his broth-er's daugh-ter died he be-came the own-er.

Now, while Wash-ing-ton had been a-way, the French had been ver-y ac-tive; they had made friends with the In-di-ans, and had e-ven dared to send some Eng-lish tra-ders in a ship to France.

At this act Eng-land was up and in arms, and sent o-ver great ships and ma-ny men to help fight the French. The first step that Eng-land took was to send men to warn the French a-way from the Eng-lish forts in Penn-syl-va-ni-a; and Wash-ing-ton, who knew bet-ter than a-ny one else the rough wild woods, and who was a friend of the In-di-ans, led a lit-tle band of sev-en men through the dense, dark woods and o-ver riv-ers filled with float-ing ice, up to the French lines. He told the chief man of the French troops just what the Eng-lish said, but this French man would not give up one inch of ground that he had won from the In-di-ans, and gave Wash-ing-ton a note to take back with him, in which he said as much.

Of course Eng-land could take but one course now; and so the long, fierce war known as the "Sev-en Years' War" be-gan. Wash-ing-ton was made a colo-nel, and showed so much skill, and was so brave, that in a short time he took charge of part of the troops of Gen-er-al Brad-dock.

In June, 1755, the troops made a start for Fort Du-quesne, where they were to stay; and on this trip, while they were deep in the woods, the In-di-ans, with fierce shrieks and wild cries, sprang on them from the rocks and trees. The horse on which Wash-ing-ton rode was shot; Gen-er-al Brad-dock got such a wound that he died, and ma-ny poor men were killed. Here again Wash-ing-ton act-ed so brave-ly, and was so wise, that the sol-diers said that Brad-dock had lost the day and Wash-ing-ton had saved the ar-my.

At Brad-dock's death Wash-ing-ton was made chief of all the troops in the col-o-nies; and the first thing he did was to place men near the homes which the white men were mak-ing in the new lands, and so help these ear-ly set-tlers to stop the In-di-ans when they came to rob them and to burn up their lit-tle log cab-ins, for a great fear of the red men was o-ver all the land. Now, when the war came to a close with the fall of the French, we find that Wash-ing-ton is a very great man, that his troops love him ver-y much, and that the heads of the states feel that he is a strong, wise man, and one whom they can trust. All this time, you know, he was an Eng-lish sol-dier, fight-ing for Eng-land; but, deep in his heart, and in the hearts of all the brave men who fought with him, there was, we may be sure, a love for this fair land, and a long-ing for its best good.

After the war was at an end Wash-ing-ton, who was ver-y glad to give up his post, mar-ried Mrs. Eus-tis, a young wid-ow with two lit-tle chil-dren, a girl of six years and a boy of twelve, and went to Mt.

Ver-non to live. For twen-ty years now he lived the qui-et life he loved so well. He took good care of his farm, was hap-py with his fam-i-ly and friends, and grew, day by day, in power. He did not lead an i-dle life, you may be sure; he rose ear-ly, had his break-fast at sev-en in sum-mer and eight in win-ter; then rode o-ver his farm and saw that all was right. He had his din-ner at two o'clock; then had an ear-ly tea, and of-ten was in bed by nine o'clock. Twice a year he sent to Lon-don for things need-ed in the way of dress for his fam-i-ly and slaves, for tools, books, drugs, etc. Some of the things he bought for the chil-dren I think you boys and girls would like, too. He sent for "tops, lit-tle books for chil-dren to read, a doll, and oth-er toys."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MARTHA WASHINGTON.]

Wash-ing-ton loved hors-es and was ver-y fond of hunt-ing. The name of his pet horse was "Blue-skin"; he must have looked ver-y fine when he was on horse-back; for he was a big man, with bright blue eyes and high color, and he wore a red vest with gold lace on it, and a dark blue cloth coat. Mrs. Wash-ing-ton rode in a fine car-riage drawn by four hors-es, and her driv-er wore the Wash-ing-ton col-ors of red, white and gold. These old days were full of life and fun, but there was work as well, and soon came more talk of war.

All through these twen-ty years this land was grow-ing big-ger and big-ger; and at last came the time when folks did not see why they should not be free from Eng-land and rule their own land in their own way.

At last Eng-land made a law called the "Stamp Act," which put so high a tax on goods that folks here would not pay it; tea was one of the things on which this tax was put; and when Eng-land sent o-ver three ships full of tea to Bos-ton, our men would not let it be ta-ken from the ships, but broke the great chests and threw all the tea in the wa-ter.

This act is known as the "Bos-ton Tea Par-ty"; and now the first signs of war were seen; a fierce fight took place at Lex-ing-ton, one Sun-day morn-ing, be-tween the Brit-ish and A-mer-i-can troops; and now, all o-ver the land, went up the cry, "To arms! To arms!"

This is how the great War of In-de-pend-ence be-gan; and you know the name of the man who was at once put at the head of the A-mer-i-can ar-my--George Wash-ing-ton, of course! Now he is not an Eng-lish-man fight-ing for his king, but an A-mer-i-can fight-ing to free his own land. A long, hard fight it was, too, but not once did Wash-ing-ton or his brave men lose heart. He drove the Brit-ish out of Bos-ton, and then, for fear they would go to New York, he sent men there; but the Brit-ish ships went to Can-a-da in-stead, and made that land theirs.

It was just at this time that Rich-ard Hen-ry Lee, the boy-friend of Wash-ing-ton, made a move in Con-gress that our land should say to the whole world that it would be free from Brit-ish rule; and so the Dec-lar-a-tion of In-de-pend-ence was drawn up and sent out to the world on July 4, 1776.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIEUTENANT-GENERAL BURGOYNE.

From an English print, 1733.]

War now be-gan in dead-ly earn-est; and, at the great bat-tle of Long Isl-and, our men met with great loss of life, and had to flee from the foe. Soon af-ter this bad news the Brit-ish took Phil-a-del-phi-a, and now Wash-ing-ton was sad at heart; on Christ-mas day of 1776, though, our troops won in the great fight that took place at Tren-ton, and there was joy in the whole land; good news came with the New Year, too, for Wash-ing-ton won ma-ny fights; and at last, in Oc-to-ber, 1777, the Brit-ish troops in charge of Gen-er-al Bur-goyne gave up their arms to Gen-er-al Gates. That win-ter of 1777 was a bad one for Wash-ing-ton and his men; at no time in the war did they suf-fer so much; the time was spent at Val-ley Forge, and the men lived in log huts which they had first built, in long straight lines, like cit-y streets; twelve men lived in each hut, and there was a fire-place at the back, but no fire could keep out the aw-ful cold, and no hut was snug e-nough to keep out the snow that fell in great drifts a-round this lit-tle town of log huts. To make things worse there was lit-tle food to be had; the men had on-ly poor, thin clothes, and their bare feet oft-en left marks of blood on the white snow. But the men did not lose hope, and kept their faith through all the long months in their great lead-er, whose lot was quite as hard as theirs was; the farm-house in which he had a room still stands, and it is hard to be-lieve, as you look at this old house on the banks of the Del-a-ware Riv-er, that once the big or-chard back of it and all the pret-ty fields were filled with poor little wood-en huts in which, for the sake of free-dom, lived and suf-fered thou-sands of brave men.

In the spring things were bet-ter, for France joined A-mer-i-ca in her fight for free-dom, and three years from this time the Brit-ish were beaten at York-town and A-mer-i-ca was free. One of the great French-men, who gave us much help, and was a firm friend of Wash-ing-ton's, was the Mar-quis de La-fay-ette.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.]

A ver-y sad thing dur-ing these last years of the war was the base act of Ben-e-dict Ar-nold, who made up his mind to sell to the Brit-ish some posts near West Point, of which he had charge. He sent a note to Clin-ton by a young Brit-ish spy, Ma-jor An-dre; but on his way to the Brit-ish lines this young man was caught by three of our men. They found the note in his boots and he was brought to the A-mer-i-can camp, tried for his life and hung as a spy. Ben-e-dict Ar-nold had made his way to a ship and set sail for Eng-land, and his name is hat-ed, not on-ly by his own land, but by e-ven the land to whom he tried to sell his coun-try.

It was in March, 1783, that the news of peace spread through the land, and it is said that Wash-ing-ton wept with joy, as he read the glad news to his troops; he gave or-ders that the whole ar-my should give thanks to G.o.d; and this was done at a great meet-ing on the day af-ter Lord Corn-wal-lis laid down his sword. Then there was a great ball giv-en at Fred-er-icks-burg, and Wash-ing-ton's old moth-er, sev-en-ty-four years old, was there lean-ing on the arm of her son; and do you not think she was proud, as one af-ter an-oth-er of the great French of-fi-cers bowed to her, and spoke in her son's praise?

[Ill.u.s.tration: SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS AT YORKTOWN.]