away, corn and wheat were springing up, and the first foundation of Pittsburgh was laid.

Immediately on the reception of this alarming news Washington sent off expresses to the governors of Virginia, Pennsylvania and Maryland for reinforcements, and then called a council of war. Beset with difficulties, liable at any moment to be surrounded and cut off, he nevertheless resolved to push boldly forward, and, if possible, reach the Monongahela and erect a fortification. With his little force swelled to three hundred men, he entered the forest and began to cut his way through the wilderness. This was slow and tedious, for all the deep streams had to be bridged, the swamps filled up, dug-ways made along the sides of the mountains, and a grade and smoothness obtained sufficient to allow the passage of baggage-wagons. Reaching at length the Youghogany, a halt was made, till a bridge could be built across the stream. Being told here by some Indians that the river was navigable to its junction with boats, Washington took with him five men and proceeded down, to ascertain if it were so. The navigation of the stream proved extremely perilous, for he got entangled amid rocks and shoals, and was borne through dangerous rapids. At length, however, he entered a gorge made by two high precipitous mountains, where the stream, compressed between the cliffs, became very deep, and, ceasing its tortuous course, flowed in a straight, rapid current on. Borne swiftly and smoothly along, Washington proceeded for ten miles, when he came to a fall. This abruptly terminated his explorations, and he returned to his army. He had scarcely reached it, when a string of wampum was received from his old friend, the Half-King, telling him that the French were advancing, and saying, "Come soon, or we are lost, and shall never meet again. I speak it in the grief of my heart." Washington immediately ordered the troops under arms, and pushed forward. Without tents, scantily supplied with

clothes and provisions, encamping under the open sky, pelted by the rains, fording the streams, and wearily dragging their cannon after them, they marched slowly on, while insubordination and complaints swelled the evils that encompassed the young commander. commander. On the 25th another message was received from the Half-King, saying, “Be on your guard; the French army intend to strike the first English whom they shall see." The same day a second messenger entered the camp, reporting that the French were but eighteen miles distant. Ignorant of their number, or from what point they would attack, he hastened to the Great Meadows, an open plain between two ridges, covered with grass and low bushes. Near the centre, where it was about three hundred yards wide, and beside a rivulet that flowed through it, he hastily threw up an intrenchment, and prepared to meet the enemy. As he looked around and saw what a broad interval lay between his rude works and the covering forest, he felt satisfied with the spot he had selected, declaring it was a charming field for an encounter." In the mean time he sent out some men on the wagon-horses to reconnoitre, and all eyes were directed toward the forest, in constant expectation of seeing them burst into the opening, bringing the enemy with them. But they returned without having seen any traces of the invaders. In the night, however, the sentries became alarmed, and fired their pieces. In a moment the little camp was in commotion, and the troops stood to their arms till morning. Soon after daylight a single man was seen moving across the plain toward the fort. This was Gist, who reported the French near by. The day wore on without further cause of alarm; but at nine o'clock at night the camp was again thrown into a state of excitement, by the arrival of a messenger from the Half-King, who lay with his warriors about six miles distant, reporting that the French detachment was close by him. It was pitch-dark, and the rain

fell in torrents, but young Washington, as he stood by the fire listening to the statement of the swarthy messenger, forgot both, and instantly selecting forty of his best men, started for the camp of the Half-King. Utter blackness filled the forest, and it was impossible to keep the right direction. Stumbling over the rocks and fallen trees, the little band staggered about in the darkness, the pattering of the rain-drops above and their constant dripping on the foliage below the only sounds that broke the surrounding stillness, save when the musket-barrel of some poor fellow, tripping in the gloom, rung against a tree or rock, or the low words of command fell from their intrepid leader, as he felt his way toward his first battle. They wandered about in the woods all night, and did not reach the camp of the Half-King till sunrise. A short council was then held, in which it was resolved to send forward two Indian scouts to ascertain the precise locality of the French. Following up the trail, these soon discovered the enemy concealed among the rocks. Streaming along in Indian file, Washington, with his savage allies, at length came in sightof the party. The latter, immediately on discovering the hostile approach, seized their arms and prepared to resist. "Fire!" cried Washington, and at the same moment discharged his musket. A rapid volley followed, and for fifteen minutes it was sharp work. Jumonville, the French commander, and ten of his men were killed, and twentytwo taken prisoners. The remainder fled. Washington had but one man killed and three wounded. It was his first battle, and the excitement was naturally great. In speaking of it afterward, he said, "I heard the bullets whistling, and believe me, there is something charming in the sound." In this first trial he showed the metal he was made of, and although the speech smacks of bravado it reveals the ardor and enthusiasm, without which the soldier never excels in his profession.