Way down in Virginia, near a small creek, called Bridges Creek, there is a shaft of white stone; on it is the name of George Washington and the date of his birth: February 22d, 1732.

On this spot once stood the big brick house in which George Washington was born; it was built in 1657 by John Washington; his grandson, Augustine, was the father of the little boy who became our first prèsident. The mother of George Washington was Mary Ball; so sweet and fair was she, when she was a young girl, that she was known as “Sweet Molly.”

Now she was not the first wife of Augustine Washington; and he had two boys, Lawrence and Augustine, when he made her his wife. These boys were so kind to their small brother 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 father built a fine new house, just over the river from where the city of Fredericksburg 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 “Hobby.” In those old days, the boys wrote to their boyfriends, just as they do at this day. See what George, when he was nine years old, wrote to his best friend, Richard Henry Lee: Dear Dickey, I thank you very much for the prêtty picture book you gave me. Sam asked me to show him the pictures and I showed him all the pictures in it; and I read to him how the tame elephant took care of his master’s little boy, and put him on his back and would not let anybody touch his master’s little son. I can read three or four pages sometimes without missing a word. Ma says I may go to see you and stay all day with you next week if it be not rainy. She says I may ride my pony. Hero, if Uncle Ben will go with me and lead Hero. I have a little piece of poetry about the book you gave me, but I mustn’t tell you who wrote the poetry.

G. W.s compliments to R. H. L.
And likes his book full well.
Henceforth will count him as his friend,
And hopes many happy days he may spend.

“Your good friend,
“George washington.”

I am going 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 horses just as the boys of today 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 boyfriends 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 vessel, and fell to the ground dead. Just at this time Georges mother came out, and saw the dead colt. She asked the boys if they knew how he died. “Yes, madam,” at once said her own boy; and then he told the whole truth. There are more tales of the boylife 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 father died when he was only eleven years old; but his mother lived to be an old, old lady, who was, you may be sure, very proud of her great son.

After his father’s death George made his home with his brother, Augustine, until he was sixteen (16) years old; and the short notes which he wrote to his mother were not like those he sent to his boyfriends, or like those which you boys and girls write today. He began, Honored Madam; and ended the stiff little note, Your dutiful son.”

In those days folks lived on great big farms, or plantations, as they were called, and raised tobacco, which was sold for much money in England. George’s father had a very large plantation and many slaves to work on it; some day this would all belong 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 cruel war between the French and English, known as King George’s War, had begun; and the boys, who heard so much talk of war, of course played at it; and George was ever at the head, ever leading these bands of young soldiers; he longed, just as boys would today, to throw away his books, to leave school, to go to the true war and bear a real gun; and when he was fifteen, his brother Lawrence, who was a soldier, tried to make his mother let him join the navy, as he was too young to go to the war. But this mother was a very wise woman, and said no; that his place was at home until he knew how to care for the great plantation and the many 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 ended and the next began; 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 began 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 prèsidents seat. His brother Lawrence had married Anne Fairfax, and in their home at Mt. Vernon George met many great men; among others was Lord Thomas Fairfax, 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 William Fairfax, left the ease of Mt. Vernon to live in the wild woods, where they would see only Indians, or, at the best, rough white men; in the log huts of the white men they found so much dirt that, after one trial, rather than sleep on dirty straw, with no sheet, and but one torn, thin blanket, they either lay on the bare floor, near the big woodfire, or else built a huge fire in the woods and lay close to it on the earth. They had to swim their horses over streams; they shot wild deer and birds, and often cooked and ate them, alone in the great wild woods, far from even the camp of the Indians. 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 wardance of the Indians; the music by which they danced was made by a pot half full of water, with a deerskin over the top, and a gourd filled with shot; this must have made queer music to dance by.

The boys were gone six weeks, and did their work so well that the governor heard of it, and he made George a “public surveyor;” 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 after his death.

Now, for weeks at a time, he was alone in the woods with the Indians; living in their camps, and learning of their life; they taught him many things; and they, in turn, learned to love and trust him; this lonely life made him a grave and quiet man; one who talked little; and it taught him to think for himself, at an age when most boys are told what to do by their parents 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 between the English and the French, who were each trying to drive away the other, and were both trying to force out the Indians. It was prêtty hard for the Indians, who now had not only to fight each other, but the white men, too. At last they took sides, some with the English, some with the French; and a fierce war broke out over the land near the Ohio River; no white men had yet lived there, and both sides wished to own it.

The French moved very fast, and built great forts, and sent men there to keep the English away; it was no “playwar” in which Washington now took part; he had real men under him; but, just as he began to learn what real war was, he had to go to the West Indies with his brother Lawrence, who was very sick. They spent the winter there, but Lawrence did not get well, and came back to Mt. Vernon in the spring, where he died in July, 1752.

He left his land in charge of Washington, who now made his home there; and when his brother’s daughter died he became the owner.

Now, while Washington had been away, the French had been very active; they had made friends with the Indians, and had even dared to send some English traders in a ship to France.

At this act England was up and in arms, and sent over great ships and many men to help fight the French. The first step that England took was to send men to warn the French away from the English forts in Pennsylvania; and Washington, who knew better than any one else the rough wild woods, and who was a friend of the Indians, led a little band of seven men through the dense, dark woods and over rivers filled with floating ice, up to the French lines. He told the chief man of the French troops just what the English said, but this French man would not give up one inch of ground that he had won from the Indians, and gave Washington a note to take back with him, in which he said as much.

Of course England could take but one course now; and so the long, fierce war known as the “Seven Years’ War” began. Washington was made a colonel, and showed so much skill, and was so brave, that in a short time he took charge of part of the troops of General Braddock.

In June, 1755, the troops made a start for Fort Duquesne, where they were to stay; and on this trip, while they were deep in the woods, the Indians, with fierce shrieks and wild cries, sprang on them from the rocks and trees. The horse on which Washington rode was shot; General Braddock got such a wound that he died, and many poor men were killed. Here again Washington acted so bravely, and was so wise, that the soldiers said that Braddock had lost the day and Washington had saved the army.

At Braddock’s death Washington was made chief of all the troops in the colonies; and the first thing he did was to place men near the homes which the white men were making in the new lands, and so help these early settlers to stop the Indians when they came to rob them and to burn up their little log cabins, for a great fear of the red men was over all the land. Now, when the war came to a close with the fall of the French, we find that Washington is a very great man, that his troops love him very 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 English soldier, fighting for England; 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 longing for its best good.

After the war was at an end Washington, who was very glad to give up his post, married Mrs. Eustis, a young widow with two little children, a girl of six years and a boy of twelve, and went to Mt. Vernon to live. For twenty years now he lived the quiet life he loved so well. He took good care of his farm, was happy with his family and friends, and grew, day by day, in power. He did not lead an idle life, you may be sure; he rose early, had his breakfast at seven in summer and eight in winter; then rode over his farm and saw that all was right. He had his dinner at two o’clock; then had an early tea, and often was in bed by nine o’clock. Twice a year he sent to London for things needed in the way of dress for his family and slaves, for tools, books, drugs, etc. Some of the things he bought for the children I think you boys and girls would like, too. He sent for “tops, little books for children to read, a doll, and other toys.”

Washington loved horses and was very fond of hunting. The name of his pet horse was “Blueskin”; he must have looked very fine when he was on horseback; 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. Washington rode in a fine carriage drawn by four horses, and her driver wore the Washington colors 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 twenty years this land was growing bigger and bigger; and at last came the time when folks did not see why they should not be free from England and rule their own land in their own way.

At last England 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 England sent over three ships full of tea to Boston, our men would not let it be taken from the ships, but broke the great chests and threw all the tea in the water. This act is known as the “Boston Tea Party”; and now the first signs of war were seen; a fierce fight took place at Lexington, one Sunday morning, between the British and American troops; and now, all over the land, went up the cry, “To arms! To arms!”

This is how the great War of Independence began; and you know the name of the man who was at once put at the head of the American army George Washington, of course! Now he is not an Englishman fighting for his king, but an American fighting to free his own land. A long, hard fight it was, too, but not once did Washington or his brave men lose heart. He drove the British out of Boston, and then, for fear they would go to New York, he sent men there; but the British ships went to Canada instead, and made that land theirs.

It was just at this time that Richard Henry Lee, the boyfriend of Washington, made a move in Congress that our land should say to the whole world that it would be free from British rule; and so the Declaration of Independence was drawn up and sent out to the world on July 4, 1776.

From an English print, 1733.]

War now began in deadly earnest; and, at the great battle of Long Island, our men met with great loss of life, and had to flee from the foe. Soon after this bad news the British took Philadelphia, and now Washington was sad at heart; on Christmas day of 1776, though, our troops won in the great fight that took place at Trenton, and there was joy in the whole land; good news came with the New Year, too, for Washington won many fights; and at last, in October, 1777, the British troops in charge of General Burgoyne gave up their arms to General Gates. That winter of 1777 was a bad one for Washington and his men; at no time in the war did they suffer so much; the time was spent at Valley Forge, and the men lived in log huts which they had first built, in long straight lines, like city streets; twelve men lived in each hut, and there was a fireplace at the back, but no fire could keep out the awful cold, and no hut was snug enough to keep out the snow that fell in great drifts around this little town of log huts. To make things worse there was little food to be had; the men had only poor, thin clothes, and their bare feet often 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 leader, whose lot was quite as hard as theirs was; the farmhouse in which he had a room still stands, and it is hard to believe, as you look at this old house on the banks of the Delaware River, that once the big orchard back of it and all the prêtty fields were filled with poor little wooden huts in which, for the sake of freedom, lived and suffered thousands of brave men.

In the spring things were better, for France joined America in her fight for freedom, and three years from this time the British were beaten at Yorktown and America was free. One of the great Frenchmen, who gave us much help, and was a firm friend of Washington’s, was the Marquis de Lafayette.

A very sad thing during these last years of the war was the base act of Benedict Arnold, who made up his mind to sell to the British some posts near West Point, of which he had charge. He sent a note to Clinton by a young British spy, Major Andre; but on his way to the British lines this young man was caught by three of our men. They found the note in his boots and he was brought to the American camp, tried for his life and hung as a spy. Benedict Arnold had made his way to a ship and set sail for England, and his name is hated, not only by his own land, but by even the land to whom he tried to sell his country.

It was in March, 1783, that the news of peace spread through the land, and it is said that Washington wept with joy, as he read the glad news to his troops; he gave orders that the whole army should give thanks to God; and this was done at a great meeting on the day after Lord Cornwallis laid down his sword. Then there was a great ball given at Fredericksburg, and Washington’s old mother, seventyfour years old, was there leaning on the arm of her son; and do you not think she was proud, as one after another of the great French officers bowed to her, and spoke in her son’s praise?

It was on Christmas eve that Washington came home to Mt. Vernon, after eight years of war: riding in state, with his wife at his side, this great American, feared now by kings, and loved more than ever by the country he had made free, came gladly back to take up the quiet country life he loved so well; and here, could he have had his way, he would have lived until his death; but this new country needed at its head a man whom folks loved and trusted, and of whom other lands stood in fear. No man but Washington could fill this great place; and so, at the end of three years, once more at his country’s call, he left his home, this time to become the first Prèsident of the United States. Not one voice was against him; every man in the new country voted to give him this last honor; and on April 30th, 1789, in New York City, he took the oath of office. Washington, who was a very rich man, had taken no money for serving his country in the war; and said he would take none now; but because other Prèsidents might not be rich enough or good enough to want to do the same, the people made him take $25,000 a year; now, you know, the Prèsident gets $50,000 a year.

Washington was in New York but one year, then the capital was moved to Philadelphia, and here he lived in great state, until after eight years in the Prèsident’s chair, once more, and for the last time, he came back home to Mt. Vernon.

At the end of his term of office, Washington only waited to see the next Prèsident, John Adams, take the chair, and soon after he came back talk arose of war with France; and, of course, the country turned to him; he was again put in charge of the army, and took up the public life he had so gladly laid down. But he had not long to bear it this time, for on December 12th, 1799, while riding in a hard rainstorm, he took a heavy cold, from which he died on Saturday night, December 14th, between ten and twelve o’clock.

Washington was buried at Mt. Vernon, and today the tomb of “The Father of his Country,” as he is lovingly called is a sacred place; not only to us, but to the men and women of the old lands, which were taught by him so long ago to honor and fear this great, new America.

Washington had been dead just one hundred years on December 14th, 1899, and the date was made much of in the United States: in New York City, in Washington, and at Mt. Vernon there was a great time in his honor, for this great man is as dear to his country today as he was when he was alive.