Newspaper Page Text
tion of their interests, to build a fort at the junction of
the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers, on the present
ite^of Pittsburg. A body of troops was accordingly dis
patched by Governor Dinwiddie of Yirginia to accom
plish this object.
The death of their colonel on the march threw the
eqmmand into the hands of the second officer, a tall Vir
ginian of twenty-two, with brown hair and gray eyes,
whose gravity of manner and careworn appearance be
spoke even then the greatness he was to win. This Vir
ginian youth was George Washington.
Before he reached the goal of his journey, Washing
ton learned from his scouts the futility of his errand. In
stead of driving out the French, he and his command
stood in a fair way of being themselves driven out, if
not altogether annihilated.
The French had been improving the summer weather.
They had captured the few English and built and manned
a strong fortress at the very place where the English ex
pected to build one, and a French and Indian force of
more than a thousand men was thronging the adjacent
When within a day's march of the new fort which
the French had named Duquesne, after the governor of
Canada, Washington halted at a place called the Great
Meadows and constructed a fortification of logs and
earth, throwing up with his own hands the first shovelful
To this rude stockade he gave the name of Fort Ne
cessity. In it were placed the cannons which he had
dragged with so great toil thru the forest paths from Vir
After a few days' rest, Washington went forward
with a portion of his force to meet the Shawnee chief,
Half Eang. A council was held and it was determined to
take a night attack upon the French.
The scouts of the faithful Shawnee chief found the
enemy's trail, and in the darkness of a rainy night the
English made a successful raid. Jumonvflle, the French
leader, was killed, and several of his men fell prisoners
into Washington's hands.
He now fell back upon Fort Necessity. His situa
tion was a critical one. His men had but little ammuni
tion, and no bread of any kind, having lived for several
days on fresh meat alone, and even this was not plenti
They were much fatigued by their long and weari
some march and the provisions of the wildwood anl,
worse than all, the walls of the rude fortification were
hardly such as could be expected to sustain a siege from
any large number of foes.
Washington spent his single day of respite in strength
ening his rampart with logs. On the morning of the
third of July his scouts brought intelligence of the ad
vance of the French.
Meanwhile the French and Indians, under the com
mand of Coulon de Villiers, had been holding a grand
powwow at Fort Duquesne. The "French father" had
Bupplied his children liberally with firearms and the
Wherewithal to eat and drink.
The braves after consuming several oxen and drink
ing two barrels of wine, had expressed their willingness to
march against the English and drive them across the AUe
De Villiers set out on his expedition. The way thru
the forest was a difficult one, and before they reached
Fort Necessity rain began to fall heavily. But the French
pressed on, and before noon of the third of July they
were firing upon Washington's defenses.
Their position was such, being upon higher ground, on
two slight elevations, and well sheltered by trees and
bushes, that they could cross their fire upon the fort and
enfilade a portion of it, without themselves being exposed
to much injury from the English.
The rain continued all that day and night, but the
combatants fought on. Washington's men stood knee
deep in the mud and water. Twice the fusiladmg par
tially subsided, and besieged and bele'aguered gazed sul
lenly at each other thru the thin gauze of mist and rain.
"At a little after nine o'clock in the evening the
French commander called out for a parley. Washing
ton's fear of treachery led him to ignore the proposal at
first, but his position was so desperate that he complied
the second time.
Captain Vanbraam, a Dutchman, the only person in
his troop who could talk French, was sent to De Villier's
After a long preliminary talk the Frenchman wrote
his terms of surrender by the flaring light of a pine-knot,
the rain-drops spattering upon the paper and rendering
the writing almost illegible.
The terms permitted Washington and his men to
march out with the honors of war, retaining their arms,
tores and baggage.
Washington signed the paper between midnight and
ne o'clock, and the rest of the night passed quietly, tho
the men remained under arms.
At dawn of the Fourth of July the Great Meadows
presented an animated scene. The morning was fair,
and the sun shone brightly over the damp, green forests
and the lofty ridge of Laurel Hill.
The horses and cattle belonging to the garrison had
all been killed, and, burdened by the sick and wounded,
whom they carried on their backs, the English were
obliged to leave most of their baggage and cannons be
Slowly they filed out of the fort and began their slow
and wearisome maroh for Wills Creek, the nearest Eng
lish station, fifty-two miles over the Alleghenies.
Sad must have been the heart of Washington as he
anrveyed the scene. All his hopes of military glory
teemed blighted in the bud, but whatever may have been
his feelings, no word of complaint or anger escaped his
Without any doubt, however, it was the darkest and
most miserable morning in his life.
He could not foresee the future, but on that other
day, when the bell on the State House at Philadelphia
was proclaiming the Declaration of Independence far and
wide, and jubilant crowds were shouting and throwing up
their hats at the glad tidings thereof, Washington must
have thought of the time when he left the walls of Fort
Necessity/TI defeated man and a fugitive.Golden Days.
THE TWO LONGEST DATS.
TeacherYou must remember, children, that Dec 21
is the shortest day we have. Do you remember the long
FreddieYes'm. It 's July 3, when you're waitiag
for the firecracker day. --Ju-Xki v*
THE JOURNAL JUNIOR, MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA, SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1905.
THE DOLE TWINS.
By Kate Upson Clark.
Copyright, 1305, by Kate Upson Clark.
What Happened on Thanksgiving Day.
HE church was in the village, a mile
or more away. The 'Squire drove
Trotty, and Mrs. Dole and the girls
somehow crowded into the double
sleighfor the snow was deep
enough in Birchmont for sleighing
by this time, and the ground was
never uncovered again until late in
April. The boys walkedand a cold,
tiresome walk they had of itbut
they knew it would do no good to
complain. For breaKfast on Sunday mornings there was
never anything but cold pork and beans and rye and
"injun" breadmuch like the modern Boston brown
bread. At noon they ate a cold lunch, which they had car
ried with them. As the church was perfectly Arctic,
and only the older women carried foot stoves (which had
pans of burning coals in them, usually renewed from some
neighbor's house during the "nooning"), it is easily
understood that the men and the young people had to
have warm clothing and a good circulation in order to be
The 'Squire looked very grand as he walked up the
aisle to his prominent pew. In his college days he had
been known as a fop, and he still carried himself with
as much dignity and wore as elegant clothing as anybody
in Birchmont. Ben and the other boys still wore home-
Captain Lemuel Taylor and Miss Priscilla Dole intend
marriage on Thanksgiving Day."
spun, but Ben was going to college in a year or two and
then he was to have some "Boston" clothes, as well as
Vanity was said to keep the women warm in many
cases in those days, as it undoubtedly does nowadays. It
must also have kept the men warm, for they wore no
"underflannels" beneath their long silk hose, while the
"smallclothes" (short, tight trousers) reached only to
the knee, where they were secured with great silver
buckles, often handsomely chased or set with gems.
Above the small-clothes was a long, brocaded "weskit"
and ovor that the 'Squire wore a green, swallow-tailed
coat with brass buttons. His hair "was braided in a
queue which hung down between his shoulders, and was
tied with a bit of ribbon. Oh, how Priscy Dole used to
dislike to braid that queue!for it had to be done "ju st
so" or else her particular father would make her do it
.over again. Later, Betsey had to perform this daily
task, but the 'Squire grew bald, and queues began to go
out of fashion by the time that Betsey was married, so
that Debby never had to braid her father's hair.
There was no Sunday school in those days. The chil
'dren sat huddled into the large, square pew, with sides
so high that they could not see any of the other people.
The minister's pulpit was very high, or else they could
not have seen him.
Nearly all the churches in New England in those
days were of what is now called the Congregational de
nomination. In those days they were called "orthodox."
The service then was very much what it is in Congrega
tional churches now, only then every exercise was longer.
Beside, the people had to stand during the "long prayer,"
which often occupied an hour in length. This accom
plished at least one good end. Everybody was so tired
that even the very haTd, straight-backed seats seemed
eomfortable when it was proper to sit down again.
OFhe sermon was twice as long as most sermons are
today. By the time the afternoon session was over, the
people were as tired as tho they had done a hard day's
When the children reached home, they had to learn
some pages of their catechism and a psalm, and perhaps
one of Watts' hymns also.
Those who did not learn their tasks well and prompt
ly were banished to some lonely, cold room to finish them,
while the 'Squire read aloud to the rest of the family
until supper time from some volume of sermons. As the.
Curtains were drawn after prayers in the morning, and*
were not pulled aside until after sunset, everything was
dim and dreary to the eye. Sunday was generally a very
After sunset the children were allowed to play and
make all the noise they wanted to. It used to be told
of Dory in later years, that on one summer Sunday, when
the bright light was streaming in thru the cracks be
tween the curtains, he had the effrontery to say to his
father, I guess the sun has set now, father. Mayn't I
go out and play?"
Everybody titteredbut it was no laughing matter
to Dory. The stern old 'Squire considered that he was
joking on sacred subjects, and after bidding him regard
the ra\s of sunshine which were stealing brightly thru
every cranny, he sent the poor boy in disgrace to bed.
On this special Sabbath day something took place
which was not uncommonbut nothing of the sort had
ever caused such commotion in the Dole family pew.
The minister offered the short prayer. Then the
choir sang, accompanied by the cracked bass-viol of "old
Gran'ther Biggins." Then the service proceeded until
just before the sermon, old Dr. Dilway, the minister, in
a voice which seemed to Dory Dole to echo from the big
soundingboard like drums and trumpets, read from a piece
of paper in his hand the words, "Captain Lemuel Taylor
and Miss Priscilla Dole intend marriage on Thanksgiv
ing Day. (Signed) Comfort Hanners, Clerk."
Betsey squeezed Dory's hand, and Thankful squeezed
Betsey's, and all the Dole children looked at each other
and made every sort of surpiised faces at each other.
Thanksgiving Day! It was always grand to have
that come anyway. How much finer it would be to have
a wedding, too! Nearly all the children had been to one
or more weddings at the neighbors' houses. They knew
that a wedding meant endless cake and pies and all sorts
of good things to eat. And Betsey and Dory knew that
it meant quilt) ngs and apple-bees, and many other parties.
In the thought of all the fun to come, the children
(who paid little attention to the long sermon that fol
lowed the "crying" as it was called, of the happy cou
pie) forgot to grieve over the dropping out from their
family circle of their good elder sister, who was an effi
cient and industrious girl, and would be a sad loss to
Mrs. Dole. But Priscy had been away at boarding school
in a neighboring county town during much of the past
year, so that Mrs. Dole had become a little used to her
When church was out in the afternoon Dory ran all
the way home in order to tel} Debby the news.
"Oh, dear," wailed Debby. I would give anything
to have been there. How did Priscy look?"
She turned as red as a beet and put her head down
on mother's shoulder," reported Dory.
"Oh, I wish I could have seen her!"
"She looked just the same as usual, only she was
red," said Dory, rather scoffingly.
"Did you know it, Aunt Spiddy?" inquired Debby.
"Yes," laughed Aunt Spiddy. I should think you
would have known it, you are both of you so keen. You
would if~you hadn't been so taken up with your own
affairs. You both have more going on than any other
childi I ever saw in my life."
Here Dory and Debby looked at each other brightly
and meaningly. How little Aunt Spiddy realized, they
seemed to say, of what was now "going on."
"Yes," proceeded Aunt Spiddy, "Captain Lem
never would have bought so much of you on muster day
"Oh, we knew that'" interrupted Debby, rather
rudely. "We knew Captain Lem was in love with
"Wellyou don't suppose he was going to keep on
courting her forever, did you? Such things generally end
in a wedding, sooner or later. And Captain Lem has a
good farm, with a comfortable house on it. But your
mother will miss Priscy dreadfullydreadfully. You will
have to work more than you do, Debbyfor in a year or
two Betsey will-be going off to school."
Debby looked very sober for a moment. Then she
I 'm not going to worry about that now. If there is
going to be a wedding, I say, let's have all the fun out
of it that we can. Is that what my new red dress is for?"
Yesan Betsjfce new green one. All the clothes aro
ready. Your mother is a smart woman, Debby. She has
done a sight of spinning and weavingand there won't
be a better outfit anywhere in the country this year than
Priscy hasogot. But are six quilts to be quilted
much to dthere beside."
Just then there was a sound of sleighbells.
"There are the folks' said Aunt Spiddy, warningly.
"You better not say much about the wedding. Your
father maybe won't think it is good Sunday talk. He's
stricter than I am, you knowand I'm afraid I ought to
be stricter than I am.''
"No, Aunt Spiddy, you are just .strict enough," cried
Debby, lovingly. "Oh, my' See Priscy," as the door
opened and that radiant maiden entered, her cheeks still
very rosy. I heard about you, Priscy! I heard your
face was red!"
"What if it was?" cried Priscy, laughing. "I'll tend
to you, you Dory Dole, if you keep on telling tales about
"Sh, sh!" said the squire, coming in just tl\en, as
Ben drove Trotty around to the barn. "We won't talk
-about gayeties today. In my judgment, it isn't profitable
on the Sabbath to laugh so much.''
On Monday morning all restrictions were removed.
,As Detiby had discovered that Priscy and Captain Lem
would be cried another Sunday she proceeded to get well
very fft*st. She was determined that nothing should keep
her from church the following Sunday.
On Thursday there was to be an all-day quilting. To
this the matrons of the neighborhood would come in the
morning and stay until dark. The girls would come
the early afternoon and stay thru the evening. The young
men would come in the evening. A good many of tho
older men would be present at the noon meal. As their
wives would be at the quilting there would be nobody in
some of the homes to get the dinner. So the children
would go to grandma's and the father would be invitfid
to dinner with his wife.
And, oh, what appetites they wouM all have! Mrs.
Dole and Aunt Spiddy were like "two generals as they
marshaled their little army of workers in the big ol
kitchen. The recovered Debby stoned raisins and pared
apples and beat eggs and ran upstairs and down. By the
time that the great quilting day had come she had forgot
ten that she had ever had to take pycra.
(To be continued. ^^fe-?