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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 forest. 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 of soil. 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 ginia. 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 ful. 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 ghenies. 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 eamp. 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 Knd. 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 lips. 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 est? 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. CHAPTER V. What Happened on Thanksgiving Day. S 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 fairly comfortable. 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 his father. 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 work. 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 depressing day. 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 absence. 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 if "Oh, we knew that'" interrupted Debby, rather rudely. "We knew Captain Lem was in love with Priscy.'' "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 brightened up. 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 and CVP1 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-?