o ^^M^n^^.Gflfj-^ r^UDHVSOl^ sWEUNIVfRJ/A •V/? iMVHfin-^^'^ •^rjiinsvwi^f^ vj^lOSANCt Or O mi OJIIVDJO^ v^lOS/WGEl^^ ^'S01^ ■*5iSJQAINn-3Vft^ ^.tfOJIlVDJO'^ -sT # *^: O = r< L>^l-UBRARYar ^^tUBRARYQc. ^4cOFCAllF0% ^OfCAllFORi^ Csl _ O .\WEU«IVERV/i. or ^NlOSANCElfj> o .nIOSANCEI% § ^^^ — .^ "^ASIAINH-^WV^ ^IIIBRARYO/. ^NtUBRAR ^OAwmii'^ • Ice ^^H^ K \ ?— ^ 3t < VS "=: ^V)fCALIfU/^ij>^ ^OFCAllF0ff,j>^ .^WEUNIVERiy/v ^lOSANCE •'!! il llllljl' GEORGE WASHINGTON. Engraved by G. Kruell from the painting by Gilbert Stuart in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. IIAIU'EIVS ^ NEW MONTHLY MACxAZINE. No. CCCCI.-OCTOBEll, 1883.-YoL. LXVII. LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. THE same reasons which induced Wash- ington to make liis head-quai-ters at Newburg'li during' the hitter part of tlie Eevohitionarv war made it an important spot from tlie outset of tlie struggle. New Enghmd, througli her open port and her own resources, furnished the cliief mate- rial for carrying on the war. The Brit- ish, occupying New York and patrolling the Hudson up to the Highlands, out ott' the direct communication between it and the army under Washington in New Jer- sey and Pennsylvania. The next nearest ^ route w'as by way of Fishkill and New- =■ burgh. Henceloaded teams were constant- s ly arriving at the former i)lace, which, being ferried across the river, took their tedious way back of the Highlands south 'S~to the army. J When the news of the battle of York- 11 town and surrender of Cornwallis reach- J ed England, the government seemed para- lyzed. Lord Germain took it to Lord North, the Prime Minister, and when ask- ed how the latter received it, replied, "As he would a bullet in his heart." Fling- ing up his arms, he strode backward and forward aci'oss his apartment, exclaiming, ^ "Oh God, it is all over! oh God, it is all j_ over! — it is all over!" Parliament met two ii: days after, and the strength of the oppo- sition showed that iu all probability it ivas all over. The news of this state of things did not reach this country till win- ter, and so, as soon as spring opened, Washington, leaving Rochanibeau to pro- tect New Jersey, joined the American army which had been ordered to march to Newburgh. With the army of Cornwal- lis gone. Sir Henry Clinton, shut up in New York, was in a condition to effect nothing except with his ships up tlie Hud- son. This river, therefore, must be pro- tected at all hazards, for, if hostilities should be resumed, its possession by the enemy would be fatal, a.s New England would 1)0 separated from the otlier colo- nies, and tlie two sections could bo easily beaten in detail. Once, Burgoyn(> liad almost reached Albany, and Clinton bad forced tlio ])assago of the Highlands to co- operate witli him. To prevent a similar catastrophe Washington took up his posi- tion at Newburgh. The main army was encamped .some two or three miles l)ack, behind a morass, which Washington spanned by a single causeway. The house in which he took up his liead-quarters stands on a bluff that overlooks the Hud- son for eight miles to West Point. Fi-om this outlook he could ascertain at once when the enemy's ships broke through the barriers constructed there and began to ascend the river, and take sucli steps as he deemed necessary. The house, standing to-day just as it did then, is a rjuaiut liuild- ing, with a great pointed roof much high- er than the bodj' of the house. It is built of stone, with walls two feet thick, and contains six rooms besides the kitchen on the first floor, and five above. The roof is sustained by long timbers of red cedar, rough hewn, which to this day give out the delicate perfume of this wood. The main room on the fii'st floor is low, with heavy rough-hewn timbers supporting the floor above, and is known, and has been for a century, as "the room with seven doors and one window." On one side is a huge open Kre-plaoe big enough to roast an ox, and on the heartii-stone of wliich one can look \\\t tlirough the tall chiui- ney and see the sky above. Some three miles south, back on the liigh ground, were the head-quarters of Knox and Greene, a house apparently modelled in its exterior after tliat occu- pied by Washington. Those of most of the other generals were strung along on a ridge opposite the slope on which lay Entered accordiiiR to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, by Harper and Brothers, In the Office of tho Xibrarian of Congress, at Washington. Vol. LXVII.— No. 401.— 41 2705!2f'> 652 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ENTRANCK TO WASHINGTON S HKAD-QUARTERS. encamped the army in huts. Wayne's was to the north of Newburgli. Thus it will be seen that Washington's head-quar- ters, situated on a bluff sloping down to the river, was to the other head-quarters and to the army like the pivot of the di- verging raj's of a fan. No arrangement could be better for the speedy dispatch of orders to every part of the army. The history of the army during the year and a half it lay here may be divided into two parts — fir.st the year of leisure, idleness, and comparative indifference, and the last six months of excitement, filled with great events until the army disbanded. Of course as the prospects of peace brighten- ed, the strict discipline of the army relax- ed, and the intercourse of the army with the people grew more intimate, and hence the domestic life of Washington and the of- ficers became better known. Consequent- ly many incidents of a private, .social character liave been handed down by tra- dition. It is only a few years .since two men, one a major in the artillery, and the other a member of Washington's Life- Guard, both nearly a lumdred years old, died a few miles back of Newburgh, one of whom has grandchildren still living in the old homestead. As to Washington, the routine of his life here furnished but little incident. His breakfast was a very informal meal, after which he oi'dered up his horse, and, attended by an orderly oi- his negro servant Bill, rode over to the head-quarters of some of his generals. His lunch was free to all of his officers, but the dinner at five was a veiy formal affair, and every guest was expected to ap- pear in full dress. If the guests had not all arrived at the precise hour, he waited five minutes to allow for the variation in the watches, and then would sit down to the table. The chaplain, if present, would say grace; if not, then Washington would say it himself, he and all the guests stand- ing. If Hamilton was present he did the honors of the table; if not, then one of the aides-de-camp. The dinner usually consisted of three courses — meat and vegetables, followed by some kind of pastry, and last hickory-nuts and apples, of which Washington was very fond. The meal lasted about two hours, when the table was cleared off, and the leaves taken out .so as to allow it to be shut up in a circle, when Mrs. Washington presided, and from her own silver tea serv- ice served the guests with tea and coffee, which were handed round by black serv- ants. Supper was at nine, and the table remained spread till eleven. It consisted of three or four light dishes, with fruit and walnuts. When the cloth was re- . moved each guest in turn was called on for a toast, which was drank by all, fol- lowed by conversation, toasts, and gener- . al conviviality. General Chastellux, a ' member of the French Academy, who came out with Rochambeau as his aide, with the rank of major-general, travelled over the country, and published an ac- count of his travels. In this he speaks of his visits to Washington, and describes these entertainments as delightful, and says that "General Washington toasted and conversed all the while," and adds, "The nuts are served half open, and the company are never done eating and pick- ing them." Washington entertained a great deal. Not only French otEcers, but the leading .statesmen of the country visit- ed him to consult on the state of affairs. Baron Steuben's head-quarters were on the Fishkill side of the river, and he fre- quently came over to drill the Life-Guard in military tactics, with a view of making officers of them, should the war continue. Their encampment was just back of head- quarters. On these occasions he was accustomed to dine with Washington. Once several LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. 653 WASmXi'luN S HKAIM^rAKIKKS A 1' .SK W HI IKill. guests were present, and anionfr tliem Robert Morris, who had come up to con- sult with Washington about tlie state' of the finances. During the dinner lie spoke very bitterly of the banlirupt condition of the Treasury, and his utter inability to replenish it, when Steuben said, "Why, are you not financier? Wliy do you not create funds ?" " I have done all I can,"' replied Morris, "and it is impossible for me to do more." "What!" said the baron ; "you remain financier wifhout finances ! Tlien I do not tliink you as lionest a man as my cook. He came to me one day at Valley Forge, and said, ' Baron, I am yoin- cook, and you have nothing' to cook but a piece of lean beef, which is liung up l\v a string before the fire. Your wagoner can turn the string, and do as well as I can. You have promised me ten dollars a niontli; but as you have nothing to cook. I wish to be dis- charged, and not longer be chargeable to you.' That is an honest fellow, Morris." 654 HAEPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Morris did not join very heartily in the laugli that followed. On another occasion Mrs. Washington, with whom he was a great favorite, asked him how he contrived to amuse himself over at Fishkill, so much alone. "Oh,"' said he, "I read and write, my lady, and play chess; and yesterday for the first time I went fishing. They told me it was very fine business to catch fish, and I did not know but this new trade might be useful to me by-and-by; but I fear I shall not succeed. I sat in the boat three hours. It was exceedingly warm, and I caught but two fish. They told me it was fine sport." " What kind of fish did you catch, bar- on ?"' she asked. "I am not sure, my lady," he replied; ''but they called one of them a whale, I believe." "A whale, barou, in the North River!" she exclaimed, in apparent surprise. " Yes, I assure you; a ver.y fine whale, my lady. Was it not ?" he asked, turning to one of his aides. "An eel, baron," was the reply. "I beg your ))ardon, my lady, but the gentleman certainly told me it wa.s a whale." A bur.st of laughter followed, in which none joined more heartily than Washing- ton. Washington was accustomed to hold a levee every week, while the officers took turns in giving evening parties; and not to mortify those who were too poor to furnish expensive entertainments, it was resolved that they should consist only of apples and nuts. There was no dancing or amusement of any kind except sing- ing. Every lady or gentleman who could sing was called upon for a song. Once Mrs. Knox broke over the rule, and gave wliat at that time was considered a grand ball, which Washington opened with the beautiful Maria Golden of Coldenham. She and Gitly Wynkoop and Sally Jan- sen, the latter two living near Old Paltz, were great belles in the spar.sely settled country, and the three wrote their names on a window-glass with a diamond ring, and there they remain to this daj'. Clinton, it is known, made many at- tempts to capture Washington, believing that if he was taken prisoner the war would be brought to a successful close. He well knew that he was the pillar of fire by night and the pillar of cloud by day to the struggling patriots, and that the news of his being a prisoner in the hands of the British would not only totally dis- hearten the impoverished colonists, but palsy the energies of their friends in the English Parliament. How many schemes were attempted we shall probably never know. We only know that Washington received many letters warning him of his danger. He doubtless had many narrow escapes, the plans of the enemy being thwarted either by the warning that he received, orfrom unforeseen circumstances — all the work of that Divine Providence that from his first entrance into the army had watched over him. That he has not left a record of some of these in de- tail is not very singular when we re- member the character of the man ; but the following has been handed down by the inhabitants residing- near these head- quarters at the time. No road at this pe- riod ran along the I'iver fi-om Newburgh south to New Windsor, though both are on its shore, and only a mile apart. A bold bluff' one hundred feet or more high made an almost precipitous descent to the river nearly the entire way, rendering the construction of a road a very difficult and expensive work. But midway between the two places the Quassaick Creek burst through this heavily wooded blutf, and plunged into the river between banks more than a hundred feet high, revealing a dark and gloomy gorge. Two or three hundred feet from the shore this chasm swung back on one side in a huge semicircle, inclosing a sweet little valley which is known as the Vale of Avoca. In this secluded valley lived a man named Ettrick. Behind his house the hill rose gradually, and stretched away to the west, the chasm gradually lessen- ing in depth, till at the distance of lialf a mile or more it became so low and nar- row that it was spanned by a bridge. Though Ettrick's house lay within short cannon-shot of Washington's headquar- ters, and in a line almo.st directly south, and about the same distance from the riv- er, it required a circuit of nearly two miles to reach it by road. Tlie tide set up the creek close to the dwelling, and a boat fi'om it could be sent by strong rowers into the Hudson in five or ten minutes. In an hour more it could be carried into the gorge of the Highlands, and in less than an hour after to the British ships that lay j below West Point. In fact, a boat well MARTnA WASHINGTON. From purtrnil by Gilbtrt Stimrt. 656 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 'm^-- VALE OF AVOCA. manned could get witliin Britisli protec- tion ill less than two liours after leaving Ettrick's house. It will be seen, therefore, that if Washington could be decoyed into Ettrick's house and captured, be would be under the British guns before ever he was missed at his own head-quarters. The plan was to have a strong guard come up in the uight and lie concealed in this gloomy gorge, and seize Washington while at din- ner in Ettrick's house, to which he had been invited. Ettrick professed to be a warm patriot, though some looked on him with suspicion. Whether he was really a traitor from sympathy with tlie Tories or became corrupted h\ British gold is not known . He was v isited steal th ily Ijy Tories, and his daughter overheard them talking together one day about taking Washington prisoner. Soon after, her father told her that he had invited Washington to dine with him on a certain day. She immedi- ately connected this with the conversation she had overheard, and suspected it was a plot to capture Washington. She at once sought a private audience with the latter, and telling him her suspicions, requested him not to come to dinner. He, howev- er, detei-mined to ascertain definitely if there was such a black-hearted traitor within his lines, and within hearing of the bugles of his own head-quarters. So on the day apjiointed he rode around to Et- trick's, but ordered a detachment of his Life-Guard, dressed in English uniform, to follow at some distance, and nevei- lose .sight of the house, and at about the dinner hour, which was late, to march up to it. They did so, and Ettrick, mistaking them for tlie British and Tories, stepped up to Washington, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said, "General, I believe you are my prisoner !" "I believe not, sir ; but you are mine!" was the reply, as the Life- Guard filed rapidly into the room. He was immediately marched off and locked up. This threw the daughter into a par- oxysm of g'rief. She had not anticipated such a result. She had given no positive information — simply told her suspicions to Washington, and asked him to stay away from dinner. She did it to save LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. <)57 Wasliington and spare her father, but not to bring' the hitter to the galhiws; and slie besought the former not to I'epay her fidel- ity by luinging' her fathei'. If it had been a personal matter he could easily have for- given it. but the blow was aimed at liis eoun- try, aiul that he would not have forgiven in an only son. Still, every instinct of his heart revolted against rewarding so cruelly the devotion of the daughter. His whole noble, chivalric nature was aroused when she besought h im not to repay hei' for saving his life by devoting her to a fate in- linitely worse than death. It was an act that it was sim])ly impossible for him to do, and though terriljly pressed by the sense of duty to his country, he resolved to keep the whole matter secret, except perhaps as he consulted with a few personal friends, and released the traitor on the condition of his leaving the country. This he ac- cepted, and fled to Nova Scotia, and no- thing is known of his subsequent fate. There has been some question as to the truth of the above legend, on the ground that so important an event in Washing- ton's life would have been on recoi-d, and not be a mere local tradition. But, in the first place, Washington would naturally have taken special pains to keep it from publicity, so that if it ever saw the light it must be through tradition. He was placed in a perplexing position in which duty and honor stood arrayed against each otli- er, and lie had to choose between the two. The treason of Arnold was still fresh in the heart of the army and jjeople, and neither Congress nor himself would be able to resist the demand for vengeance. Hence it was important that the incident should be kept secret, and it was. After- ward more important events and the con- clusion of peace would luiturally drive it out of the minds of tlie few who knew it, or they, knowing Washington's wi:4lies on the subject, did not sjjcak of it. No one look- ing at the spot, and taking in the whole situation, would doulit its probability. The completeness of the plan shows it to have been carefully studied. Besides, the tra- dition is as well authenticated as any of those connected with the old head-quarters which have been incorporated into the ac- cepted history of those times. He had doubtless many other quite as narrow es- capes, which even tradition has not pre- .served, and which find no place in history. Besides the levees held by Washington once a week, and the social gatherings in- augurated and given to amuse the officers, he issued an order recommending to the troops to make regimental gardens for the purpose of raising greens and vegetables for their own use. Passes were given to the soldiers to range the country for seeds, and advertisements were inserted in the papers forthem to be delivered to the quarter-mas- ter to be equally distributed. Washing- ton's wife set the example, and had a large vegetable garden laid out on one side of these head-quarters and a flower garden on the other, both of which she superintended herself. Remains of the brick-lined paths of the latter were visible till within a few years. But as the months went on and the pros- pects of peace became more certain, this social everyday life and these quiet occu- pations were overshadowed by moment- ous events on which hung the destiny of the counti'y. Both officers and men were getting very restless over the prospect be- VIEW SOUTHWARD FROM WASFIINOTON S HEAD-QUARTERS. 658 HAEPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fore them, and indignant at the neglect of Congress to par them their wages and provide for their wants, while tlieir fam- ilies were suffering at home. Murniur- ings deep and loud were constantly borne to Washington's ears, till he became alarmed. Many of liis best officers shared his anxiety. Now, just as day was dawn- ing and independence about to be secured, everything seemed to be tumbling in chaos about them, threatening a state of things worse than their former condition as colon i.sts. In the uncertainty and dread which surrounded them the officers instinctively turned to Washington for safety. A paper embodying their views was drawn up, and Colonel Nicola — an old officer held in high esteem and confidence by Washington — was selected to present it. Riding up to the head-quarters one morning, he asked to see Washington on important business. Conducted into his presence, he presented him with the paper. This document, after describing the peril- ous state of feeling in the army and the dangerous aspect of affairs, and showing the necessity of settling at once on a form of government, now peace was assured, showing also that it must be a strong one, took up the several forms of government in the world, discussed the good and bad features of each, and summed up by de- claring that a republican government was i the most unstable and insecure of all, and a constitutional monarchy, with certain modifications, like that of England, the strongest and the safest; and continued, \ "such being tlie fact, it is plain that the ! same abilities which have led us through difficulties a])parently insurmountable by human power to victory and glory, those qualities that have merited and obtained the universal esteem and veneration of the army, would be most likely to con- duct and direct us in the smoother path of peace." In short, it declared that he alone could uphold the nation he had saved by his valor, and offered to make him dictator, and concluded by saying that, "owing to the prejudices of the peo- ple, it might not at fti'st be prudent to as- sume the title of royalty, but if all other things were adjusted, we believe strong ar- guments miglit be produced for admitting the title of king." When Washington had read this paper the light died out of his eyes, and a look of inexpressible sad- ness stole over his countenance. Had he borne and suffered so much for these seven long years to have it all end in this ? The emotions that crowded his heart and shook his strong soul to its centre may bo gathered from the sudden burst of indig- nation with which this proposition to make him king was received. " Sir," said he, "it is with a nuxture of surjjrise and astonishment I have read the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrences in the course of the war have given me more painful sensa- tions than your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and which I miist view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given encour- agement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest mischief that can be- fall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagreeal)le. Let me conjure you, then, as you have regard for your country, for your.self, or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind." When one reflects how evenly balanced and self-controlled Washington's nature was, he can conceive somewhat how terri- bly moved he must have been when he exclaimed, "it is with a mixture of sur- prise and astonishment" that he has heard such sentiments expressed. Though he had suffered long and deeply, and at times stood the only pillar of lire that towered through the impenetrable darkness, when hope had died out of all other hearts, yet "no occurrences" through all those years of distress and gloom had given him "more painful sensations." That which in all other military chieftains would have awakened pride and exultation, fills him with sorrow and indignation. The compliments with which they accompa- nied their proposal were to his soul of hon- or insults. To suffer and die for his coun- try was his pride and glory ; to betray her, a crime beyond his imagination to con- ceive. But all those niingled emotions give way before the terrible peril that threatens "his country," and there comes back like a mournful refrain, " the greatest nuschief that can befall my country." History furnishes no parallel to this, and the little room in which he penned this immortal letter should be consecrated forever. In Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, was settled the question of national iude- LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. 059 ASHINr.TON UKFL'SINC A DICTATOUSHIr. pendence; in these old liead-qiiarters it was decided whether we should be a re- public or not. No spot on earth rep- resents a more momentous event, or one more worthy to live in eternal remem- brance in the hearts of the people of this country. But Washington by his lofty patriot- ism had warded off one danger to his country only to be confronted by one still 660 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. OLD ELLISON HOUSE.* more appalling. He had been offered the kiug.ship and refused : the army must now look to itself for protection. He ■would not go with them: then they must go on without him. The army with its pay withheld. Congress deaf to its peti- tions and indifferent to its wants, and yet its dissolution near, Avhen it would he powerless to act, grew wrathful and mu- tinous. Washington heard the deep mutter- ings of the gathering storm around him. The following strong language, in a let- ter to the Secretary of War, shows how imminent was the peril and how deeply he was moved. Said he: "Under pre- sent circumstances, when I see a num- ber of men goaded by a thousand stings of i-eflections on the past and anticipa- tions of the future about to be turned on the world, forced by i)enury and by what they call the ingratitude of the public, involved in debt, without one farthing to carry them home, after sjiending the flower of their days, and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing the free- dom of their country, and suffering ev- erything this side death — I repeat it — * Twice during tlie war, Washington, while on a visit to that wing ot tlie army operating in tlie Highland.*, made the old Ellison liouse in New Windsor his liead-quarters for a short time. But the mansion lias long since disappeared, and the old lioniestead been converted into a Ijriek-vard. when I consider these irritating circum- stances, without one thing to soothe their feelings or dispel their prospects, I can not avoid apprehending that a train of evils will follow of a very serious and dis- tressing nature. . . . You may rely vipon it the patriotism and long-suffering of this army is well-nigh exhausted, and there never was so great a spirit of discontent as at present. " What a terrible state of things must have existed that could wring such strong language from the prudent, self-contained Washington, and what an extraordinary position did this man oc- cupy I When his faithful army, in view of their suti'ering condition and the help- lessness or indifference of the govern- ment, asked him to become king and take charge of them and the country, he turned on them with a fierceness that was appall- ing, as if they were traitors to freedom. The next moment lie turned on that gov- ernment with equal sternness for its cruel treatment of that army of long-suffering, nolile patriots. He stood alone between a starving mutinous army on the one side and an inetiHcient blind Congress on the other, assailing and defending both by turns, and with a lofty patriotism and far-seeing wisdom, acting only for his countrj-. But his appeals to both were of no avail, and as winter with its increas- ing suffering came on, the low rumbling of the coming earthquake grew louder, LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. (;61 and fearful of a (•onvulsion tliat would bury everything- in indiscriminate ruin, he got the officers to assemble and a])- point a committee to visit Congress and lay before it tlieir grievances and ask for redress. But Congress, tliough full of con- ditional promises, refused to do anything till the separate States were consulted, which meant, of course, till peace was se- cured and the army disbanded and i)ow- erless. When this committee returned and re- ported its ill success, the murmuring grew louder and deeper, and Washington saw an abyss opening before him whose depths lie could not fatlumi. What shape the dark shadow of coming' evil would take he did not know; he only knew it was near at hand. At last it took defliiite form. (_)ne day a paper was handed him that had been freely circulated through the army, calling on the officers to assem- ble the next day at the "Temple" to de- cide on the measures the army should take in tlie ])resent disastrous condition of thing's. Tliis paper bore no signature, but was evidently written by an able hand, and was well ada))ted to arouse and kin- dle into conllagi-ation tlie smouldering lires in the army. This was plainly the purj)ose of the writer. He Ix'gan by stat- ing liow ineffectual had been tlieir ajipeal to Congress, and declared that the gov- erniii(>nt had .shown itself totally inditVer- eiit to their rights, and it was folly to trust longer to its sense of justice, saying, "Faith has its limits as well as its tem- per, and there are points beyond which neither can be stretched without sinking into cowardice or plunging into creduli- ty." He then took a rapid survey of the past, spoke of their devotion to their country, their unparalleled sutl'erings and hardships endured without a murmur, and then in a series of scornful questions asked them how they had been rewarded. After arousing their indignation with this recital of their wrongs, and the contemjit- uous treatment witli which their humble petitions had been received, he burst forth : " If this be your treatment while the swords you wear are necessary to the pro- tection of your country, what have you to expect from peace when your voice INTERIOR OF WASHINGTON'S IIEAn-QCARTERS, 662 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. r THE TEMPLE. shall sink and your strength dissipate by division, when those very swords, the in- struments and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no re- maining mark of your military distinc- tion left you but your infirmities and scars ? Can you consent to retire from the field and grow old in poverty, wretch- edness, and contempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of depend- ency, and owe the remnant of that life to charity which has hitherto been spent in honor? If you can, go and carry with you the Jest of Tories, the scorn of ^^ll igs, and. n-hat is icorse, the pitij of the world. Go, .starve and be forgotten." Growing bold in his indignation, he swooped down on Washington himself, and exclaims, " SusjKct the man ivho wonhl advise to more moderation and longer forbear- ance." "If you revolt at this,'' he added, "and would oppose tyranny under whatever garb it may assume, awake, attend to your situation, and redeem yourselves. If the present moment be lost, every future ef- fort will be in vain, and your threats will be empt}^ as your entreaties are now. "' He closed this stirring appeal with this dire- ful proposition : ' ' Tell Congress that with them rests the responsibility of the future ; that if peace retnr)is. notliing but deatli shall separate you from your arms; if the ivar continues, you ivill retire to some unsettled country to smile in turn, and ' mock ichen their fear cometh.' " These fiery words fell on the excited feelings of the army like fire on gun- powder. A frightful gulf had opened at the very feet of Washington, and he gazed with a beating heart and like one stunned into its gloomy depths. The.sg Ijrave men whom he had borne on his great heart these seven long years were asked to throw him overboard at last! Must it be, then, that the stormy and bloody road they had travelled together so long was to end in this awful abyss in which home and coun- try and honor wei-e to go down in one black ruin ? Ashe looked on the appalling prospect his heart sank within him, and he afterward said it was "the darkest day of his life."' Not in the gloomy encamp- ment of Valley Forge, when he gazed on his half-naked, starving army dying around him. did the future look so hopeless. No lost battle-field ever bore so terrible an aspect. But what was to bo done ? The meeting had been called for the next day, so that there would be no time for passion to subside or cooler counsels to prevail. Should he forbid the meeting, as he had the power to do? No; the army was in no temper to submit to dictation. Besides, if he did, the evil would not be remedied. He must have something more than obe- dience; he must win back the love and confidence of the army, or all would be lost. He well knew that when that army once broke away from him in anger and defiance, nothing but the blackness of des- olation awaited his country. With that LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. wonderful sagacity which in liini seemoil like prophecy, he simply issued an order postponino: the nieetiiig- until Saturday, four days in advance, and designating tlie rank of the officers that should compose it. This would give liim time to mature liis plans. He then summoned to liis head- quarters his most trusted oflicers to con- sult on the proper course of action. It was a cold, chilly day, and the great open fire-place was heaped witli Ijlazing logs, ton should attend tlie meeting and open it in per.son. Tliis deferring tlie meeting till passion could suhside, and tlie resolu- tion to 'practically lake charge of it in person, was a grand stroke of policy. It broke the whole force of the movement at the outset. The morning of the inth of March dawn- ed sombre and bleak, and the leaden clouds hung lieavy and dark over the wintry landscape. The snow .still lay on the HEAD-QCARTERS OF GK.NKK.^LS K.SOX A.M) GKKKXE AT VAIL liATE. before which Washington was slowly pa- cing when the generals, one after anoth- er, rode u]) and dismounted at the door. Wayne, Putnam, and Sullivan entered one after another, Steuben rode up from over the river, and Knox and Greene from New Windsor, and othei-s, until they form- ed a noble grouj) around their great chief- tain. Of that deliberation no record has come down to us, but if the walls of the old room could speak, they would utter words of noble devotion and patriotism that would stir the heart like a trumpet calL It was determined that Wa.shing- mountain-tops and in the deej) hollows as Washington and his staff turned away from the.se head-quarters and began slow- ly to climb the hill back of Newburgh to- ward the " Temple," a frame building that stood in an open clearing. It was a large structure which had been erected as a i)lace of worshi]) for the army. As he a))proach- ed it, absorbed in painful, an.xious thought, he saw the open s])ace around it filled with horses in military trappings lield by order- lies or hitched to the trees, showing that the oflicers had already assembled. On an opposite ridge across a morass, peeping 664 HAEPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. out from among the trees, were scattered the huts of the encampment, where the army, half clad, half starved, and unpaid, lay murmuring' and discontented. His eye rested for a moment upon them with a sad expression; then, dismounting and handing his liorse to an orderly, he enter- ed the huilding, packed with an anxious, waiting audience. Every eye was turned as that tall majestic form passed through the door and moved toward the raised plat- form at the otlier end of the room. His heavy footfall on the uncarpeted floor fell clear and distinct as the blows of a ham- mer in the profound silence. As he stepped upon it and turned around and cast his ej-e over the assembly, the pain- ful sadness of liis face showed that his great heart was stirred to its profoundest depths, and sent a thrill of sympathy through the room. As his eye swept over the throng he knew every countenance of those who composed it. They had been his comrades for seven long years. Shoul- der to shoulder they liad moved beside him in the deadly conflict. He had heard their battle-slioutoii the flelds of his fame as they bore him on to victory. Brave men were they all, on whom he had relied, and not in vain, in the hour of deadly peril. A thousand proofs of their devotion came rusliing back on his mem- ory, and their toilsand snfferingrose before him till his heart swelled over them in af- fection and sorrow. He could have no words of rebuke for them — only words of love and sympathy. Absorbed in his feelings lie forgot his .spectacles as he un- rolled lii.s manuscript. Pausing he took them from his pocket, and remarked, in a tone subdued by emotion, "These eyes, my friends, have grown dim, and these locks white in the service, yet I never doubted the justice of my country. " They were simple words, but the sad, suppress- ed tone in which they were uttered sent a thrill through the room, and lips quivered and eyes moistened that had never blanch- ed in the fiercest whii-lwind of battle. He began this immortal address by referring to the anonymous writer of the appeal, and denouncing liis conduct and advice in un- sparing language, and then with a clianged voice spoke of the army, its sufl^erings and devotion, of his own deep abiding attach- ment to it, saying that he had always been its "faithful friend"; had never left it except when called away by duty, but had ever been its companion in distress and danger; that he had rejoiced when he heard it praised, and was filled with in- dignation when it was traduced; that his own fame was inseparably bound up in its glory, and that it could " not be supposed that at this late stage of the war he was indifferent to its interests," and pledged himself then and there anew to see all their wrongs redressed, all tlieir rights es- tablished. As his deejiening voice re-as- serted his love for the army and steadfast adlierence to its fortunes, eyes unaccus- tomed to weep overflowed with tears. Taking fire, as he proceeded, at the infa- mous advice to take up arms against tlieir country, he exclaims, "My God ! whatcan this writer have in view in recommending such measures ? Can he be a friend to the country? No; he is plotting the ruin of both! "Let me conjure you in the name of our common country, as you value your own sacred honor, as you respect the rights of liumanity, as you regard the military or national character of Ameri- ca, to express your utmost horror and de- testation of the man who wishes under any specious pretense to overturn the lib- erties of our country, and who wickedly attempts to open the flood-gates of civil discord, and deluge our rising empire in blood." He urged them to exhibit the same steadfast patriotism and devotion to duty that had ever characterized tliem, and wait patiently for the justice tlieir country was sure to render them. He closed this noble address in the following impressive language: " By thus determin- ing and acting you will pui-sue the plain and direct road to the attainment of your wishes; you will defeat the insidious de- signs of our enemies, who are compelled to resort from open force to secret arti- fice; and you will give one more distin- guislied proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the most complicated sufferings, and you will by tlie dignity of your conduct att'ord oc- casion for posterity to say, when speak- ing of- the glorious example you have ex- hibited to mankind : Had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage of jierfection to which human virtue is capable of attaining." With a stately bow he descended the platform and walked out of the building. As he passed through the door, Knox imme diately arose and moved that the thanks of the otficers be tendered to the commander- LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. 665 WASHINGTON AND HIS GKNERALS IN CONSULTATION, MARCH IS, 1T83. in-chief for his address, and to "assure him that the officers reciprocated his affection- ate expressions with the greatest shiceri- ty of whicli the human heart is capable.'^ Other resolutions followed, which were unanimously carried. The deed was done, the rising- storm sank to rest, and the terrible crisis was past. It was no figure of speech when he said that the course advi-sed by this anonymous writer would drench this rising empire in blood. Civil war would inevitably have followed, the divided colonies easily fallen again into the hands of England. Washington rode back to his head- quarters, and received with a relieved and happy heart the congratulations of his officers.* The rumors of peace that now from time to time reached the army were at length con tinned, and on the 11th of April Congress issued a procla- * It was iifterwarJ (iiscovercii tliat tliis daiigei'oua appeal was wiitteii liy Jlajoi- John Armstrong, an ai(io-cliM-anip of Gate:?. It is lint justice to say that after Washington lieeaEue Presiileiit, lie, after liear- ing Armstrong's vindication of liiinsclf, acunitted him of acting from treasonable motives. ination that hostilities had ceased, but Washington did not make it known till the 18th. In the earlier years of the war men had enlisted for a certain time, but this time often expiring at the beginning or in the middle of a campaign, it caused great confusion and often disastei', .so that at length they were enlisted for the war; and Washington was troubled lest the men should construe this proclamation as end- ing the war, and demand their immediate discharge. Still he saw it could not be kept secret, and he issued an order on the 18th of April announcing it. " llEAD-QCARTERS. Hewbuugu, April 18, 1783. ''Tlio conmiamler-iu-fliief orileis the ce.ssa- tioii of liostilities Itetweeu the t'liited States of America and the King olUieHt Hrilnin to 111! putilicly read to-nioirow at 12 o'eioclv at the new Imilding, and the iiroelnnialion which will lie coinnmnicaled lierewitli to lie read to- morrow evening al the head of every regiment and corps of tlie army. .M'ter wliich the eliap- lains witli tln^ sineral lirigades will render thanks to Almighty (iod for all His mercies, particnlarly for His ovcrrnling Ihe wralli of men to His own glory, ami causing the rage of war to cease among Ihe nations.'' 666 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. He thcu goes on to say tliat having ac- complished such glorious results, and preserved such a noble character through all their trials, and immortalized tlieni- selves by receiving the appellation of the "Patriot Army," nothing more remains but to maiutain that character to the very last act, and close the drama with ap- plause, and retire from the military thea- tre with the same approbation of men and angels \yhich has crowned all their former virtuous actions. To secure this end, he says, strict discipline must be maintained until Congress shall order their final discharge. He promises them his aid and influence, but in the mean time is determined that "no military neglects or excesses shall go unpunished." After giving directions about prepara- tions for the celebration, the proclama- tion concludes witli the following signifi- cant sentence, wliich doubtless conveyed more meaning to many a poor half-starved soldier than all the high com])liments that had preceded it : " An extra ration of 1 iquor to be issued to every man to-morrow, to drink perpetual peace and independence and happiness to the United States of America." Accompanying tiiis proclamation for a day of jubilee, which is an excellent ex- ample of Washington's remarkable sa- gacity, he issued the next day the follow- ing order for anotlier celebration, that has only recently come to light, and shows that, considering the poverty of tlie sol- diers and citizens at that time, it must have been on a grand scale: Newburciii Head-quarters, Ap/il 19, 178:3. To erect a fiaiiio for an illiuiiiuatiou the several corps of the caiitoninoMt are to 8C]nare and tleliver at the new buihlin;:;, ou Monday next, the following pieces of tiniljcr, viz. : Feet Inches Pieces. Lntig. Squiire. Maryland Detachment 29 30 7 Jersey Reghnent. 5 30 7 Jersey Battahon 2 30 7 First New York Re>;iiiK'nt 2 30 7 Second New York Jlegiinent 3 30 7 Hampsliire Reginjcnt 8 18 7 Hanipsliire Battalion 3 18 7 First Massachusetts Regiment .. . !l IS 7 Fourth Massachusetts Regiment. . 8 18 7 Seventh Massachusetts Regiment •) < , o L Second Massachusetts Regiment. . 8 10 7 Fifth Massachusetts Regiment, •■jo o 7 Eighth Massachusetts Regiment . . 16 S 7 ( 2 14 7 Third Massachusetts Regiment . ■{ 3 15 7 ( 6 11 7 Here are more than a luindred pieces of timber, all but a few from thirty to nine- teen feet long- and seven inches square, for a frame on which to hang lights. This would be considered a gigantic operation at the present day even. But who in the Continental army could get up such a display ? This is explained by the follow- ing order issued the next day. "Each commanding officer of a brigade is request- ed to ai)point an officer to assist Colonel Gouvion in making preparations for the il- lumination. Colonel Gouvion will meet the oflicers at 12 o'clock to-morrow at the new building." It is seen that a French officer familiar with such displays got uj) the affair, and as Continental money was so worthless it would take a cart-load to buy a cliicken, it is fair to presume that French money paid for it. A busy scene followed. Where now are richly cultiva- ted farms, great forests stood, which were soon filled with soldiers; and laughter and song mingled witli the .sound of the axe and crashing of trees — felled not for the purpose of building breastworks, but for the celebration of peace. Seventeen regi- ments and battalions swarming the woods, some hewing the timbers and oth- ers bearing them on their shoulders to their place of destination, made an excit- itig scene. Their arms were left in their huts, and though many were shoeless and in rags, cold and wet were alike forgotten in the approaching day of jtibilee. Although thehrst formal celebration was to commence at 12 o'clock witli prayer, an anthem of praise accompanied by the band, and followed by three thundering liuzzas, the excited soldiers could not wait till then, but ushered in the day with fir- ing of guns and shouts and songs till hill and valley rang again. Heath says that the eflfect was gr;uid when the army with excited voices thundered forth the antliem "Independence," by Billings: "The States, Lord, with songs of praise Shall in Thy strength rejoice; And, blest with Thy salvation, raise To heaven their clieerful voice." And from plain and hill-top, field and for- est, there rose strong and great against the sky, ".^nd all the Continent shall ring, Down with this earthly king ; No king but God." When niglit came the piles of combus- tible materials that had been heaped on the summits of Berean Mountains and LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. 6()7 UliACOX-riliES ON Tin; IIL'DSUN IN ftl.KISUAI'ION OV I'KACt Stonn Kins' to signal tlio advaiicp of the ein-m_v were lighted np, not to herald the approach of the foe, but blazed from their lofty tops like great altar fires to tlie God of ])ea('(-. In June furloughs were granted, and the army dwindled awa\-. Still a Vol. I.XVII -Xo. 401.— 42 668 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. portion was left to guard tlie stores and remove tliein when peace should be estab- lished. Besides, there were a great many invalids; many had no homes to go to; many were in rags and not fit to be seen on the highways ; and others who had no means of getting away, and could travel only as beggars, preferred to remain be- hind and wait for their long-promised pay. But at length the treaty of peace was concluded, and the army must be disband- ed. This was the last and most touching act in the whole drama. The joy of the celeljration was now forgotten in the sad- ne.ss of parting and the gloomy prospect before them. On the uKsrning of the 3d of November the few remaining troops as- sembled for the last time, and here " In their rngpeil refrimcntals Stood the old Continentals," to hear the farewell address of their great leader. Never more would they behold him in their midst, never again see him ride along their firm-set lines, the light of battle in his eye, and words of encourage- ment on his lijis. Years of connnon suf- fering and common danger had endeared him to them, and in the sorrow of that final parting the joys of peace were re- membered no more. When the reading was finished, the band struck up the tune of " Roslyn Castle,'' which was always play- ed when tliey bore a dead comrade to his grave, and as the mournful .strains linger- ed on the air they broke ranks for the last time, and the last of the glorious Revolu- tionary army disappeared from sight for- ever, but yet to live in the memory and af- fection of the country they saved, and be again summoned in imagination from their graves in these centennial years to receive the plaudits of their descendants. The scene that followed was heart-rending. Many a gallant officer whose sword had flashed along the line in the smoke of bat- tle must now give it up, and penniless beg his way as a pauper to his long-abandoned and impoverished home. Says Dr. Thatcher, who was present: " Painful was the parting; no description can be adequate to the tragic exhibition. Botii officers and soldiers, long unaccu.s- tomed to the affairs of private life, were turned loose upon the world. Never can the day be forgotten when friends and companions for seven years in joy and sorrow were torn asunder without the hojje of ever meeting again, and witli the prospect of a miserable subsistence in tlie future." Major North, another witness of the painful scene, says: "The inmates of the same tent for seven long years grasped each other's hands in silent agony; to go they knew not whither; all recollection of the art to thrive by civil service lost, or to the youthful never known ; their hard-earned military knowledge worse tiian useless, and to be cast out into the world by them long since forgotten; to go in silence and alone, and poor and helpless. It was too hard. Oh, on that sad day how many hearts were wrung! I saw it all, nor will tlie scene be ever blotted from my view." The brave, kind-hearted Steuben looked on the scene with pitying eyes. Seeing Colonel Cochrane, a brave, gallant officer, standing apart and leaning on his sword, while his face expres.sed the deepest sad- ness, he approached him and said, "Clieei- up; better times are coming." "For myself," replied the officer, "I can stand it ; but," jjointing to a mere hovel near by, he added, "my wife and daughters are in that wretched tavern. I have nowhere to carry them, nor even money to remove them." "Come, come," said the baron; "I will pay my respects to Mrs. Cochrane and your daughters;'' and leaving him stand- ing alone, he strode away to the tavern, where he found the ladies sunk in de- spondency. The sight was too much for the brave old veteran, and emptying his puree on the table, he hastened away to escape their tears and their blessings. Some left by water in sloops, and some on foot, and soon the last tent was struck, and the flag that had swung for nuirethan a year and a half from this old building was taken down, the last morning and evening gun had been fired, and silence and .solitude fell on the place. The bi'ave men, scattered over the coun- try they liad saved, were imjjoverished, and smarting under the sense of injustice on the part of the government, and would have been left in doubt and uncertainty as to their future course but for the farewell address of Washington. These his last parting words to them became a law of action, a cliart by which to guide their conduct, and tlirough its silent, unseen in- fluence the dangerous, tui-bulent element, that at one time threatened to be too strong even for Washington, became tranquil, un- LAST DAYS OF WASHINGTON'S ARMY AT NEWBURGH. 669 til the nation, slowly lifting its head out of its sea of troubles, arose strong and com- placent and secure. This farewell address, dated the day be- fore the disbandment oi the army, after speaking of the proclamation of Congress to that end, and its testimony "to the merits of the federal armies," says: "It only remains for the commander- in-chief to address himself once more, and that for the last time, to the armies of the United States (however widely dispersed), and to bid them an alt'ectionate and long farewell. But before the commander-in- chief takes his final leave of those he holds most dear, he wishes to indulge himself a few moments in calling to mind a slight review of the past. He will then take the liberty of exploring with his mil- itary friends their future prospects, of ad- vising the general line of conduct which in his opinion ought to be pursued, and he will conclude the address by expressing the obligations he feels himself under for the spirited and able assistance he has ex- perienced from them in the performance of an arduous office. "A complete attainment (at a period earlier than could have been expected) of the object for winch we contended against so formidable a power can not but inspire us with astonishment and gratitude. The disadvantageous circumstances ou our part under which the war was undertaken can never be forgotten. The singular in- terpositions of Providence in our feeble condition were such as could scarcely es- cape the attention of the most unobserv- ing; while the unparalleled perseverance of the armies of the United States through almost every possible sult'ering and dis- couragement for the space of eight long years was little short of a standing miracle. "It is not the meaning nor is it within the compass of tliis address to detail the hardships peculiarly incident to our serv- ice, or to describe the distresses which in several instances have i-esulted from the extremes of hunger and nakedness, com- bined with the rigors of an inclement sea- son, nor is it necessary to dwell on the dark sicle of our past affairs. Every American officer and soldier must now console himself for any unpleasant cir- cumstances which may have occurred by a recollection of the uncommon scene in which he has been called to act no in- glorious part, and the astonishing events of which he has been a witness — events which have seldom if ever before taki>n place on the stage of human action, nor can they probably ever happen again. For wlio has ever before seen a disciplined army formed at once from such raw ma- terials ? Wlio that was not a witness could imagine that the most violent local prejudices would cease so .soon, and that men who came from the different parts of the continent, strongly dispi)se repeating- on this occasion so interesting a sentiment, and leave it as his la,st injunction to every othcer and every soldier who may now view the subject in tlie same serious point of light to add his best endeavors to those of his worthy fel- low-citizens toward etf'ecting these great and valuable purposes on which our very existence as a nation so materially de- pends. ■' The Comniander-iu-chief conceives but little now wanting to enable tlie soldiers to change the military character into that of the citizen but that steady and decent tenor of behavior which has generally distinguished not only the army under his immediate command, but the different detachments and separate armies through the course of the war. From their good sense and prudence he anticipates the happiest consequences, and while he con- gratulates them on the glorious occasion which renders tiieir service in the field no longer necessary, he wishes to express the strong obligations he feels himself under for the assistance he has received from every class and in every instance. He presents his thanks in the most serious and atfectionate manner to tlie general officers as well for their counsel on many interesting occasions as for their ardor in promoting tlie success of the plans he had adopted; to the commanders of regiments and corps and to the other otHcers for their great zeal and attention in carrying his orders i)romptly into execution; to the staff for their alacrity and exactness in performing the duties of their several de- partments; and to the non-commissioned officers and private soldiers for their ex- traordinary patience and suffering as well as their invincible fortitude in action. To the various branches of the army the General takes this last and solemn oppor- tunity of professing his inviolable at- tachment and friendship. He wishes that more than bare professions were in his power, that he were really able to be use- ful to them all in future life. He flatters himself, however, they will do him the justice to believe tliat whatever could with propriety be attempted by him has been done. ■'And being now tocoiu^lude this his last public oi'ders, to take his ultimate leave in a short time of the military character, and to bid a linal adieu to the armies he has so long had the honor to connnand, he can only again offer in their behalf his recom- mendations to their trrateful country, and his prayers to the (xod of armies. May am- ple justice be done them here, and may the choicest of Heaven's favors both here and hereaftei- attend those who, under the Di- vine auspices, have secured innumerable blessings for others ! With these wishes and these benedictions, the Cominauder- in-chief is about to retire from service. The curtain of separation will soon be drawn, and the military scene will be clo.sed forever." The casual reader, or one who does not comprehend fully the circumstances at that time or the purpose for which it was written, will see in this address only good fatherly advice, without any particular signifleance or force. But there never was an addre.ss more carefully studied, or filled with a loftier purpose, nor better adapted to produce great and decisive re- sults. It was designed to hold that scat- tered, impoverished army within those .safe bounds without which all would be lost, and which Congress could not do. Washington knew the dangerous temper in which that army had been disbanded, its hatred to that government which must be upheld by them, or all that had been won would be worse than useless, and yet a gov- erunient for which they had neither love nor respect, but instead scorn and con- tempt. This was a perilous state of things, and there was nothing to hold these neg- lected and often reckless men but their unbounded love and veneration for Wash- ington. He had proved its great strength when the Newburgli lettei's convulsed the army, and this was his last effort to em- ploy it for his country. Though he had condemned that government in unsparing language, and told it plainly that its con- duct imperiled the "very existence of the nation,"' yet he now defended it. With all its injustice and weakness, there was nothing else to look to; he therefore " leaves it as his last injunction to every officer and .soldier" to support it. He makes every possible appeal to them. He reaches the consciences of these Puritan soldiers by telling them that their won- derful success is a standing miracle, brought about by Providence being on 672 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. their side, tlius making them look away from themselves to that Being they had been taught to reverence. He tells them that the only way to enjoy the priceless blessings they have won is to prove them- selves as wise and prudent citizens as they have been brave and self-sacriflcing sol- diers; in short, to show themselv^es as great in peace as they have proved great in war. He tells them of his own un- bounded love for tlieni, and promises over again that justice shall be done them in tlie future, and their claims satisfied. How completely he sinks himself, the great central figure, out of sight! He does not refer to his own sacrifices or achievements. He sees only his country, and thinks only of her welfare, and his whole soul is bent on keeping that army which has followed his fortunes so long true to its interests. Viewed in this light it stands unparalleled as a farewell address from a military chieftain to his soldiers, and shows a sagacity and far-seeing glance that seems more like prophetic vision than human foresiglit, and displays in the strongest light tlie great and lofty traits of liis character. After he has thus put in their liands a chart to guide tlieir future course, and laid down the onlj- principles on which they can safely act, after having done all in his power to serve and save liis coun- try, he at last lets his thoughts revert alone to their bravery, their toils and de- votion, and as he contemplates his final parting with them forever, his heart gives way to a burst of affection ; and he bids the)n farewell with a benediction and prayer for their welfare that shows how deeply that great heart was moved. As one rises from the study of this ad- dress, viewed in connection with the times and purpose for which it was written, he says, with Fislier Ames: "Of those who were born, and who acted through life as if they were born not for themselves but for their country, how few, alas, are re- corded in the long annals of the ages I Two Washingtons come not in one age." DALECARLIA. II. FREE from the oppressive dictation of a guide - book, we wandered far into Dalecarlia, wherever the picturesqueness of people or landscape led us, regardless of the conventionalities of travel. The long days of midsummer, with no dark- ness and little twilight, followed one an- other like a succession of day-dreams, for no arbitrary nature drove us to bed or summoned us to rise. At midnight we were sometimes working on sunset-color studies or sitting at tlie window reading. We started for our day's walk an hour aft- er supper, sleeping when we were sleepy, and eating when we were hungry. How long a man accustomed to a lower lati- tude could endure the dissipation of this irregular life we did not discover, for our experiment was not long enough to fix the limit of our endurance. For a while at least it was an agreeable change, and we looked forward to dark nights with no pleasant anticipation. Tliere came contin- ually to mind the complaint of the thrifty New England housewife, who, although rising at dawn, and continuing her work by evening candle-light, never thinks her daj'' half long enough for the hundred du- ties that ai'e crowded into it. But the Dale- carlian farmer doubtless finds his working hours as many as human nature can en- dure, for he is obliged in this short season to make up for the long and dark winter, when candles are lighted in the middle of the afternoon, and the cattle do not leave the barns for months. The farm -boy hitches up the horses to harrow at ten o'clock in the evening; toward midnig-ht the carts laden with hay rumble along the village streets, and tliere are sounds of life all night long. Even the birds scarce- ly know when to cease singing, and their twitter may be heard far into the evening. Rise wlien you like in tlie morning, and you will always find the farmer already at work. In the Iieat of high noon lie may be asleep in his wooden bunk in the living-room, but most of the day the liouse is deserted, and the key hangs on the door jamb or is stuclv in the shingles of the low porch. Tlie laborers come in for their dinner after hours of dusty work in the fields. A huge copper pot is brought out in tlie middle of the court-yard and filled with water. The girls take off their ker- chiefs and bathe their arms and necks, huddling together in the shade of the porch. Men follow, and repeat the oper- AT , '1 ANGBLBS LIBRARY %oi\mi^'^ '^<»ojnvD-jo^ ^ ■^/sa3AiNn3y\v^ :^ ^OfCAllFOff^ ^OFCAUF0P^>, ^^WEUNIVfRS•/^ ^lOSANCfltr^ ^^WM)NIVER% o ».- -I ^tllBRARYdK "^/saaAiNn-aftv^ ^JllVDJO'*^ %0JlTiOJ0'^ ^^WEUN1VERS{5. ^lOSANCn% K^ PPI f^S5| f^ ^0FCAIIF0% CO University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES. C.V.IFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the libra y from which it was borrowed. ^OFCAlIFORi^ § i^^ 1^ ^. yo, ^W I #! ■^OJITOJO^ ^OFCAllFOff^^ ^OFCAllFOff^ ^riuoNVSoi^ "^/sajAiNnjwv .^WE•llNIVERJ/A ^lOSANCFlfJV. SLS^NS ^1 ft u— .- 'I s O u_ CO >&Aavaani> 5S\EUNIVERS/J I ^WEUNIVERS I ■<: ^tllBRARY^ ^'