"A considerable cannonading from the enemy; one shot killed three men, and mortally wounded another. While the Rev. Mr. Evans, our chap lain, was standing near the commander-in-chief, a shot struck the ground so near as to cover his hat with sand. Being much agitated, he took off his hat, and said, 'See here, General!' Mr. Evans,' replied his excellency, with his usual composure, 'you'd better carry that home and show it to your wife and children.'”

Indeed, it seemed to many that Washington bore a charmed life, and it was often said that he was under the special protection of God. He was fearless, and constantly exposed to danger, but his constant escapes made him cool and self-possessed, and the admiration of his men. He was excited by the events which were hurrying the war to the close, and he watched with intense earnestness the several assaults which were made on the works. Once he had dismounted and was standing by Generals Knox and Lincoln at the grand battery. It was not a safe place, for, though they were behind a fortification, it was quite possible for shot to enter the opening through which they were looking. One of his aids, growing nervous, begged him to leave, for the place was very much exposed.

"If you think so," said Washington, “you are at liberty to step back." Presently a ball did strike the cannon, and, rolling off, fell at Washington's feet. General Knox seized him by the

arın.

My dear General," said he, "we can't spare you yet."

"It's a spent ball," replied Washington, coolly. "No harm is done." He watched the action until the redoubts which his men had been assaulting were taken; then he drew a long breath of relief and turned to Knox.

"The work is done," he said emphatically; "and well done."

The siege was short, the work was sharp, for it was full of enthusiasm and hope, and when, on October 19, the army of Lord Cornwallis surrendered to General Washington, there was a tumult of rejoicing in camp which was long remembered. Washington issued orders that the army should give thanks to God. "Divine service," he said, "is to be performed to-morrow in the several brigades and divisions. The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us."

The officers of the combined armies spent some time in the neighborhood, and there was a great ball given at Fredericksburg by the citizens of the place. The most distinguished guest was the mother of Washington, then seventy-four years old, who came into the room leaning on the arm

of her son. She was quiet and dignified, as one

after another of the French officers made his bow and his complimentary speech; but I think there must have been a great deal of motherly pride in her heart, though it is said that when her George came to see her alone after the victory at Yorktown, she spoke to him of his health, marked the lines of care on his face, spoke of his early days, and gave him a mother's caution, but said nothing of the glory he had won. To the last he was her boy, and not America's hero.

CHAPTER XXI.

WASHINGTON RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION.

AFTER the surrender of Yorktown and the departure of the French, Washington established his headquarters at Newburgh on the Hudson. There he remained with the army until it was disbanded; and the house in which he lived is carefully preserved and shown as an historical museum.

There is a pleasant story of La Fayette's affectionate remembrance of the life there. Just before his death, which occurred in 1834, he gave a dinner party in Paris to the American Minister and some friends who had been old associates. Later in the evening, when the hour for supper came, the guests were ushered into a room which was in strange contrast with the elegance of the apartments they had been in. The ceiling was low, with large beams crossing it; there was a single small, uncurtained window, and several small doors. It looked more like an old-fashioned Dutch kitchen than a room in a French house. A long, rough table was meagrely set. A dish of meat stood on it, some uncouth-looking pastry, and wine in decanters and bottles, ready to be poured out into glasses and camp-mugs.

"Do you know where we are now?" asked La Fayette as his companions looked about puzzled, and as if in a dream. "Ah! the seven doors and one window! and the silver camp-goblets! We are at Washington's headquarters on the Hudson, fifty years ago!" He had reproduced the room as a surprise to his friends.

Peace did not come at once after Yorktown ; there was still fighting in a desultory way, but all knew that the end was not far off. Yet the soldiers could not go back to their homes, and Congress was shamefully remiss about paying them. Murmurs deep and loud arose, and Washington suffered keenly from the neglect shown to the army. It required all his patience and tact to keep the murmurs from breaking out into violent action. With no military duty to perform, and with the impatience of men who were suffering injustice, the officers and men began to form all sorts of plans.

One of the officers and how many agreed with him is not known, but the sentiment easily took this form one of the officers wrote to Washington that it was clear that Congress was a failure. The army had won independence, but no reliance could be placed on the government. How much more stable was the government of England! Would not such a government be after all the best for America? It might not be