Chapter III: Preface (2)

"Here comes a bowl of soup--full of burnt leaves and dirt.--Away
with it, boys. I'll live like the chameleon upon air. 'Pooh-pooh,'
says Patience. You talk like a fool.--See the poor soldier--with
what cheerfulness he meets his foes and encounters hardships. If
bare of foot he labors through mud and cold, with a song extolling
war and Washington. If his food is bad he eats it with contentment
and whistles it into digestion.--There comes a soldier--his bare
feet are seen through his worn out shoes. His legs are nearly naked
from his tattered remains of an old pair of stockings--his shirt
hanging in strings,--his hair dishevelled--his face meagre--his
whole appearance pictures a person forsaken and discouraged. He
comes and cries with despair--I am sick. My feet are lame--my legs
are sore--my body covered with tormenting itch--my clothes worn
out--my constitution broken. I fail fast. I shall soon be no more.
And all the reward I shall get will be--'Poor Will is dead.'"

On the 21st of December this entry appears:

"A general cry through the camp this evening: 'no meat--no meat.'
The distant vales echo back--'no meat.' 'What have you for dinner,
Boys?' 'Nothing but fire-cake and water, sir! At night. 'Gentlemen,
supper is ready.' 'What is your supper, lads?' 'Fire-cake and water
Sir.'"

Again on December 22d:

"Lay excessive cold and uncomfortable last night. My eyes started
out of their orbits like a rabbit's eyes, occasioned by a great
cold and smoke. Huts go slowly. Cold and smoke make us fret.--I
don't know anything that vexes a man's soul more than hot smoke
continually blowing into one's eyes, and when he attempts to avoid
it, he is met by a cold and freezing wind."

On December 25th, Xmas, this entry:

"Still in tents. The sick suffer much in tents. We give them mutton
and grog and capital medicine it is once in a while."

January 1st:

"I am alive. I am well. Huts go on briskly."

I have quoted thus lengthily from this diary, which gives, perhaps, the most vivid picture we possess of that dark period, simply because it touches upon almost all that concerns the life of the soldiers that winter,--upon their dwellings, their food, their health, their courage.

The Doctor repeatedly speaks of the huts which were to shelter the men. In the order issued by Washington to his generals early in December, directions were given concerning the construction of these dwellings. According to these directions, the major-generals, accompanied by the engineers, were to fix on the proper spot for hutting. The sunside of the hills was chosen, and here they constructed long rows of log huts, and made numerous stockades and bristling pikes for defence along the line of the trench. For these purposes and for their fuel they cut off an entire forest of timber. Can't you hear the steady crash of the ax held by hands benumbed with the cold, as blow, by blow, they felled the trees on the hillside, eager to erect the crude huts which were to give better shelter than the tents in which they were yet shivering and choking? In cutting their fire wood, the soldiers were directed to save such parts of each tree as would do for building, reserving 16 or 18 feet of trunk for logs to rear their huts. "The quartermaster-general, (so says the order of December 20th) is to delay no time, but procure large quantities of straw, either for covering the huts or for beds." This last item would suggest the meagreness of the furnishing. Throughout the entire winter the soldier could look for few of the barest necessities of life. An order from headquarters directed that each hut should be provided with a pail. Dishes were a rarity. Each soldier carried his knife in his pocket, while one horn spoon, a pewter dish, and a horn tumbler into which whiskey rarely entered, did duty for a whole mess. The eagerness to possess a single dish is illustrated by an anecdote which has come down in my own family, if I may presume to narrate it. My Revolutionary ancestor was a manufacturer of pottery. In the leisure hours of this bitter time at Valley Forge, he built a kiln and burnt some pottery. Just as it was time to open the ovens, a band of soldiers rushed upon them, tearing them down, and triumphantly marched off with their prize, leaving Captain Piercy as destitute of dishes as before.

As for the food that was meant to sustain the defenders of our liberty, the diary I have quoted, together with Washington's daily orders, gives us sufficient information to enable us to judge of its meagreness. Often their food was salted herring so decayed that it had to be dug 'en masse' from the barrels. Du Poncean, a young officer, aid to Baron Steuben, related to a friend, a few years after the war, some facts of stirring interest. "They bore," he says, "with fortitude and patience. Sometimes, you might see the soldiers pop their heads out from their huts and call in an undertone--'no bread, no soldier;' but a single word from their officer would still their complaint." Baron Steuben's cook left him at Valley Forge, saying that when there was nothing to cook, any one might turn the spit.

The commander-in-chief, partaking of the hardships of his brave men, was accustomed to sit down with his invited officers to a scanty piece of meat, with some hard bread and a few potatoes. At his house, called Moore Hall, they drank the prosperity of the nation in humble toddy, and the luxurious dessert consisted of a dish of hazel nuts.

Even in those scenes, Mrs. Washington, as was her practice in the winter campaign, had joined her husband, and always at the head of the table maintained a mild and dignified, yet cheerful manner. She busied herself all day long, with errands of grace, and when she passed along the lines, she would hear the fervent cry,--"God bless Lady Washington."

I need not go into details concerning the lack of clothing--the diary I have quoted is sufficiently suggestive. An officer said, some years after the war, that many were without shoes, and while acting as sentinels, had doffed their hats to stand in, to save their feet from freezing. Deserters to the British army--for even among the loyal American troops there were some to be found who could not stand up against cold and hunger and disease and the inducement held out by the enemy to deserters--would enter Philadelphia shoeless and almost naked--around their body an old, dirty blanket, fastened by a leather belt around the waist.

One does not wonder that disease was rampant, that orders had to be issued from headquarters for the proper treatment of the itch; for inoculation against smallpox, for the care of those suffering from dysentery which was widespread in the camp. On January 8, an order was issued from the commander-in-chief to the effect that men rendered unfit for duty by the itch be looked after by the surgeon and properly disposed in huts where they could be annointed for the disease. Hospital provisions were made for the sick. Huts, 15 by 25 and 9 feet high, with windows in each end, were built, two for each brigade. They were placed at or near the center, and not more than 100 yards from the bridge. But such were the ravages of the disease that long trenches in the vale below the hill were dug, and filled in with the dead.

To turn to the activities of the camp,--its duties, privileges, and amusements, and even its crimes. Until somewhat late in the spring, when Baron Steuben arrived at Valley Forge, there was little system observed in the drilling of the several brigades. Yet each day's military duty was religiously attended to, that there might, at least, be some preparation for defence in case of an attack from the superior force at Philadelphia. The duties of both rank and file were strictly laid down by Washington, and any dereliction was punished with military strictness.

In the commands issued on February 8, the order of the day is plainly indicated. I give the words from Orderly book:

"Reveille sounded at daybreak--troop at 8--retreat at
sunset--tattoo at 9. Drummers call to beat at the right of first
line and answer through that line. Then through the second and corp
of artillery, beginning at the left. Reserve shall follow the
second line immediately upon this. Three rolls, to begin, and run
through in like manner as the call. Then all the drums of the army
at the heads of their respective corps shall go through the regular
beats, ceasing upon the right which will be a sign for the whole to
cease."

Don't you imagine that you hear the rise and fall of the notes as they echoed and re-echoed over the frozen hills and thrilled the hearts that beat beneath the rags in the cold winter morning?

The daily drill on parade, the picket duty, the domestic duties incumbent upon the men in the absence of the women, the leisure hours, then taps, and the day's tale was told.

I should like to tell you of the markets established, for two days each, at three separate points on the outskirts of the camp, where for prices fixed by a schedule to prevent extortion, the soldiers, fortunate enough to possess some money might add to their meagre supplies some comforts in food or clothing. I should like to tell of the sutlers that followed each brigade, and the strict rules that governed their dealings with the army,--of the funerals, the simple ceremonies of which were fixed by orders from headquarters; of the gaming among the soldiers, which vice Washington so thoroughly abhorred that he forbade, under strictest penalties, indulgence in even harmless games of cards and dice. I should like to tell of the thanksgiving days appointed by congress for some signal victory of the northern army, or for the blessing of the French alliance, on which days the camp was exempt from ordinary duty and after divine service the day was given over to the men. Or I should like to tell of Friday the "Flag day" when a flag of truce was carried into Philadelphia and letters were sent to loved ones, and answers brought back containing disheartening news of the gaieties then going on, or encouraging accounts of the sacrifices of mothers and daughters in the cause of liberty. And finally I should like to tell you of the court martials, through the reports of which we get such a vivid picture of the intimate life of the time: of the trial by court martial of Anthony Wayne, who was acquitted of the charge of conduct unbecoming an officer; of the trial of a common soldier for stealing a blanket from a fellow soldier, and the punishment by 100 lashes on his bare back; of the trial of a Mary Johnson who plotted to desert the camp and who, between the lined up ranks of the brigade, was drummed out of camp; of the trial of John Riley for desertion, and his execution on parade ground, with the full brigade in attendance; of the dramatic punishment of an officer found guilty of robbery and absenting himself, with a private, without leave, and who was sentenced to have his sword broken over his head on grand parade at guard mount. I should like to tell, too, of the foraging parties sent out to scour the country for food and straw; and the frequent skirmishes with detachments of the enemy; of the depredations made by the soldiers on the surrounding farmers, which depredations were so deplored by Washington and which tried so his great soul I wanted to speak of the greatness of the Commander-in-Chief in the face of all he had to contend with--the continued depredations of his men; the repeated abuse of privilege; the frequent disobedience of orders; the unavoidably filthy condition of the camp; the suffering of the soldiers; the peril from a powerful enemy,--all sufficient to make a soul of less generous mould succumb to fate, yet serving only in Washington's case to make him put firmer trust in an Almighty Power and in the justice of his cause.

At the opening of the spring a greater activity prevailed in the camp. With the coming of Baron Steuben, the army was uniformly drilled in the tactics of European warfare. With the new appropriation of congress, new uniforms were possible and gave a more military appearance to the army. It was no longer necessary, therefore, for Washington to issue orders that the men must appear on parade with beards shaven and faces clean, though their garments were of great variety and ragged. And with the coming of the spring, and of greater comforts in consequence, Washington, in recognition of the suffering, fidelity and patriotism of his troops took occasion to commend them in these words:

"The Commander-in-Chief takes this occasion to return his thanks
to the officers and soldiers of this army for that persevering
fidelity and zeal which they have uniformly manifested in all
their conduct. Their fortitude not only under the common hardships
incident to a military life, but also, under the additional
suffering to which the peculiar situation of these states has
exposed them, clearly proves them to be men worthy the enviable
privilege of contending for the rights of human nature--the
freedom and independence of the country. The recent instance of
uncomplaining patience during the late scarcity of provisions in
camp is a fresh proof that they possess in eminent degree the
spirits of soldiers and the magnanimity of patriots. The few who
disgraced themselves by murmuring, it is hoped, have repented such
unmanly behaviour and have resolved to emulate the noble example
of their associates--Soldiers, American Soldiers, will despise
the meanness of repining at such trifling strokes of adversity,
trifling indeed when compared with the transcendent prize which
will undoubtedly crown their patience and perseverance.

"Glory and freedom, peace and plenty, the admiration of
the world, the love of their country and the gratitude of
posterity."--_American Monthly Magazine._

OLD WILLIAMSBURG.

BY EMILY HENDREE PARK.

The screeching of the steam whistle at the Williamsburg station seemed a curious anachronism, a noisy, pushing impertinence, a strident voice of latter-day vulgar haste. But when the big engine had rolled away, puffing and blowing and screaming as if in mischievous and irreverent effort to disturb the archaic dreams of the fast-asleep town, the "exceeding peace" which always dwells in Williamsburg, fell upon our hilarious spirits. We wandered about the streets with hushed voices and reverent eyes. The throbbing pulse of the gay, stirring, rebellious heart of the old capital of Virginia had been still for a century.

On entering Bruton church, the eye is first attracted on the right of the chancel to the novel sight of the governor's seat, high canopied and richly upholstered in crimson and gilt. The high-backed chair is railed off from the "common folk," and the name Alexander Spotswood in gold lettering runs around the top of the canopy. At once you realize that this was indeed the court church of the vice-regal court at Williamsburg, and that you are in old Colonial Virginia. The lines "He rode with Spotswood and Spotswood men," the knights of the "Golden Horse Shoe," run through the brain, and the knightly figure of Raleigh, the chivalric founder of the colony, and brave John Smith and a score of others, heroes of that elder day, come from out the shadowy past, and hover about one. You look at the quaint old pulpit, on the left of the church, with its high-sounding board, and then glance down at the pew on your right, which bears the name of George Washington, and opposite the plate on the pew reads Thomas Jefferson, and next are James Madison and the seven signers of the Declaration of Independance, and Peyton Randolph and Patrick Henry and the doughty members of the house of burgesses who worshiped here, and whose liberty-loving spirits fired the world with their brave protests against tyranny. When you read these names, suddenly the church seems full of the men who bore them, and you are surrounded by that goodly company of heroes who made Virginia and America, the cradle of liberty. The magic spell is upon you. You turn cold and burning hot with high enthusiasm and the glory of the vision. You are roused from your trance by the pleasant voice of the young minister, Mr. John Wing, who is saying: "Now we will go down into the crypt."

There are treasures in the crypt indeed. We follow in a dazed fashion, and are shown the Jamestown communion service; the communion silver bearing the coat-of-arms of King George III; the ancient communion silver of the College of William and Mary; the Colonial prayer book, with the prayer for the president pasted over the prayer for King George III; a parish register of 1662, the pre-Revolutionary Bible; coins found while excavating in the church, and brass head-tack letters and figures by which some of the graves in the aisles and chancel were identified. We are told that the date of parish was 1632, first brick church, 1674-83; present church 1710-15. Precious and deeply interesting, but I imagined that I could hear the tread of that "knightly company" upstairs, who let neither silver nor gold nor the glitter of the vice-regal court at Williamsburg seduce them from their love of liberty, nor dull their hatred of tyranny in its slightest exercise. Ah! there were giants in those days among those Virginia pioneers, in whose veins ran the hot blood of the cavalier, who loved truth and hated a lie, who loved life and despised danger, and feared not death nor "king nor kaiser," descendants of the valiant Jamestown colonists to whom Nathaniel Bacon cried one hundred years before: "Come on, my hearts of gold!"

The tombstones in the aisle and chancel of the church include the tombs of two Colonial governors--Francis Fauquier and Edmund Jennings--and the graves of the great-grandfather, the grandfather and grandmother of Mrs. Martha Washington. After reading the quaint inscription on the marble mural tablet in memory of Colonel Daniel Parke and the inscriptions on the bronze mural tablets memorial to Virginia churchmen and patriots, we climb to "Lord Dunmore's gallery," where, tradition says, the boys of William and Mary College used to be locked in for their soul's edification until service was over, and where we sat in Thomas Jefferson's accustomed place, from whence he looked down upon the heads of the members of the house of burgesses and the Colonial vestrymen of distinguished memory. Is it any wonder that in such environment the boy's dreamy aspirations crystallized into the high resolve of becoming a patriot and statesman? For in those stormy days preceding the Revolution this little Bruton parish church was a very Pantheon of living heroes.

Fiske, the New England historian, says that "the five men who more than any others have shaped the future of American history were Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Marshall and Hamilton." All but Hamilton were Virginians and worshipers at Bruton church, and two of them were students of the College of William and Mary. Distinction unrivaled for the state, the church, the college.

And now we walk into the church yard, under venerable trees, among crumbling grave stones and see the Pocahontas baptismal font and the tombs of the Custis children and Colonial Governor Knott.

We are shown the home of George Wythe, the signer of the Declaration, the teacher of Jefferson, Monroe and Marshall. Great teacher of greater pupils! Inspirer of high thoughts and immortal deeds! One of the students at William and Mary, Jefferson, wrote the declaration, three were presidents, and another, John Marshall, was Chief Justice of the United States. The headquarters of Washington, the site of the first theater in America, 1732, the Ancient Palace green on the right hand of which is the fictional home of Audrey, and several ancient colonial homes are pointed out to us. If any vestige remains of the old Raleigh tavern, whose "Apollo" room was famous as the gathering place of the burgesses, who, after their dismissal in 1769 asked an agreement not to use or import any article upon which a tax is laid--it was not shown to us.

The old powder horn or powder magazine, a curious hexagonal building, has been admirably restored and stands as a reminder of that dramatic scene in Virginia history in 1775 when, after Lord Dunmore had removed the powder from the magazine into one of the vessels in the James, fearing an uprising of the colonists, Patrick Henry, with an armed force from Hanover, stalked into the governor's presence and demanded the return of the powder or its equivalent in money. Lord Dunmore, looking into those dauntless eyes, beholds the dauntless soul of the "Firebrand of the Revolution" behind them, and yields at once and pays down £330 sterling. Patrick Henry, with splendid audacity, seizes a pen and signs the receipt, "Patrick Henry, Jr." making himself alone responsible for this act of high treason, and then, that there may be no doubt as to his signature, he has it attested by two distinguished gentlemen. What heroic daring! What impassioned love of liberty! While Peyton, Randolph and Richard Henry Lee counsel caution, Patrick Henry acts and becomes the inspired genius of the revolution, fusing the disunited and hesitating colonies into a nation by the white heat of his burning passion for freedom.

First in importance of all the historic places in Williamsburg is the venerable college of William and Mary. Founded in 1693, next to Harvard the oldest college in the United States, it soon became the "intellectual center of the colony of Chesapeake Bay," the alma mater of the patriots who fought for the life of the young republic and of the statesmen who formed its constitution and guided its course in its infant years. It has furnished to our country fifteen senators and seventy representatives in congress; thirty-seven judges, and Chief Justice Marshall; seventeen governors of states and three presidents of the United States--Jefferson, Monroe and Tyler. James Blair, a Scotchman, was its first president and remained so for fifty years. The ivy-clad buildings of the old college nestle among ancient trees on a wide campus, and so venerable is the look of the place that the new hall seems a modern intruder, though of quiet and well-mannered architecture. The quiet air of scholarly seclusion reminds one of Oxford. It was commencement day, and we found the buildings decorated with white and yellow, the college colors. The chapel, with its oil paintings of presidents, donors and patriots, and the library with its rare volumes and priceless old documents and portraits and engravings, are full of interest. A marble statue of one of the old governors--Botetourt, I believe--stands in the silence of the centuries in front of the old college.

"Yas'm ris de place, de house er buggesses, dey call it, 'cause de big bugs of ole Virginny sot dere er making laws. 'Fo de Lawd, marm, dey wuz big bugs; quality folks, quality folks." And John Randolph, our colored coachman, waved his hand with a proud air of ownership, as if he were displaying lofty halls with mahogany stairs and marble pillars, instead of the mortar and brick foundation, in its bare outline, of the old capitol, or House of Burgesses.

"Walk right in, suh. Bring de ladies dis way, boss," John Randolph urged, in a tone of lordly hospitality. "Right hyah is the charmber (room) whar Marse Patrick Henry made dat great speech agin de king--old Marse King George--or bossin' uv de colonies. He wuz er standing on dis very spot, and he lif' up his voice like a lion and he sez, sez he--"

"What did he say?" as the old man paused.

Striking a dramatic attitude, the gray-haired old Virginia darky rolled out in sonorous voice, with impassioned gesture:

"Tarquin and Caesar had each his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell and George the Third--" "Treason! treason!" said the speaker of the house. "May profit by their example. If that be treason, make the most of it."

In spite of John Randolph's oratory, Rothermel's painting came before me, and I could see the Virginia cavaliers gazing at the speaker with startled, breathless look, while the colonial dames with their powdered hair and stiff brocade leaned eagerly forward in the gallery to catch each note of the immortal voice; and in the doorway stood Thomas Jefferson, the slim young student of William and Mary College, electrified by the fiery eloquence, "such as I had never heard from any other man," he said: "he appeared to me to speak as Homer wrote."

"But why didn't you say 'Give me liberty or give me death,' Uncle John?" asked the young interrogation point of the party.

"'Cause Marse Patrick never said dem words here, chile. He spoke 'em in old St. John's Church up in Richmond ten year arterwards. I gin you his Williamsburg speech, his fust great speech." And the darky orator and historian smiled with that superior wisdom which we had seen illumminate the dark Italian features of Antonio Griffenreid, the famous sexton of old St. John's as he enlightened the ignorance of a party of sightseers.--_Atlanta Constitution._

SONG OF THE REVOLUTION.

We love the men and women, too,
Who fought and worked and brought us through
Our glorious revolution;
Hard was the struggle, brave the fight,
That won for them the sovereign right
To frame a Constitution.

CHORUS.

This Constitution made us free
In this proud land of liberty--
The best in all creation--
And we'll stand by it while we live;
Whatever we may have we'll give
For its perpetuation.

Our Country is the fairest one
Kissed by the ever rolling sun--
We glory in our nation;
And we will see that it shall be
The happy land of liberty,
Through time's continuation.

_--Francis H. Orme._

This song has been adopted as a State song by the Daughters of the American Revolution of Georgia, and as a national song by the Continental Congress 1906.

A TRUE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION.

BY MRS. M. S. D'VAUGHN.

_Archibald Bullock Chapter, D. A. R., Montezuma, Ga._

This is a story of how a woman's wit and tact saved her husband's life from the hands of the Tories, in the dark days of the Revolution.

It was in South Carolina, the British General, Cornwallis, had ordered any American sympathizer caught, to be hung or shot at sight. Numberless outrages had been done and the feeling was intensely bitter against the Tories, or Royalists, as they called themselves. Especially so was it in the section of the country where lived Elizabeth Robert. Her husband was fighting with Marion, the "Swamp Fox," in another part of the state and the only protector for herself and two young children was a faithful slave called "Daddy Cyrus." Here on her plantation Elizabeth spent her days living quietly enough. However, she was no idler, but rather a most thrifty housewife and her muscadine wine excelled any other and was known far and wide for its delicious flavor.

Now, John Robert grew restless, as the days passed and no word came from his wife, so obtaining leave of absence from General Marion, he quietly slipped through the lines, and by a devious route, appeared one dark night at the door of his home. But some foreign eye had noted the unusual happiness and excitement in the "big house" as it was called, and in a short while it was surrounded, and Capt. John was a prisoner in the hands of the Tories. Mary, with tears, pleaded for her husband's life, but to no purpose, and dawn was to see his dead body hanging from the limb of a huge oak near by. Tears availing nothing, Elizabeth's quick brain began to teem with plans for John's escape.

Slipping down to "Daddy Cyrus'" cabin, she told him of her plan of rescue, then back to her house she ran, her absence not having been noted. Then bringing all her womanly beauty, graciousness and charm to bear upon the Tories, she inticed them into the dining room, leaving her husband tightly bound to the tree where he was to meet his death,--and then from her mahogany sideboard, she served to them her famous muscadine wine. Drink after drink, she offered them, while her smiles and gay repartee allured them. More--more--and yet more, until their befuddled wits were completely gone.

Then faithful old "Daddy Cyrus" waiting, watching, guarding, with his sharp knife, cut the bonds of his "Young Marster," and into the darkness Capt. John was gone back to his comrades with a hurried kiss from the lips of his wife who had saved him.

The Tories were persuaded that the wine was the cause of their hazy belief of the capture of Capt. John Robert, and no harm was done to Elizabeth.

GEORGIA.

Poem composed by Mrs. C. M. O'Hara and read before David Meriwether Chapter, Greenville, Ga., Georgia day, 1911.

Georgia, the baby of the original thirteen,
Not, however, youngest in importance, I ween,
Was born to the colonies in seventeen thirty-two,
To help those in prison their lives to renew.
What Oglethorpe planned for this child of his heart
Was that rum and slaves of it should not be a part,
But this wayward child would have her own way,
In spite of her mistakes she has made up to date,
Georgia is called of the South the Empire State.
She was the fifth of her sisters in secession to say,
"The Union she'd leave" when there was not fair play.
This child of famous men has sent her portion
From the "marshes of Glynn" to the Pacific Ocean.
Near Savannah, where Oglethorpe first planted his foot,
Ebenezer, the first orphanage, has taken firm root.
Another distinction, too, fair Georgia can claim
Is the first college for women, Wesleyan by name.
Towering intellects she reared in her Toombs and her Hills;
She can boast of her factories and her mills;
She has kept pace with her sisters in every movement
That tends to her children's uplift and improvement.
Now in heathen lands, across the deep waters,
Performing deeds of mercy are Georgia's sons and daughters.

FORTS OF GEORGIA.

MISS FRANCIS CLARKE.

_Prize Essay of Girls' High School, Atlanta, Georgia, for the loving cup offered by Joseph Habersham Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution._

The forts of Georgia, though for the most part hurriedly and roughly built for protection against Indian, Spaniards, Englishman, or Federal, have nevertheless been the scenes of the bravest defenses, of the most courageous deeds. In them probably more than anywhere else, the men of Georgia have shown their hardy spirits and distressing trials. Never has a Georgia fort been surrendered except from absolute necessity, though its protectors were weak from starvation.

The first of the long list of five hundred forts that have been erected in Georgia is Fort Charles, on the northeastern coast of Georgia. It was built about 1562 by the direction of John Ribault, who with a party of Huguenots had come from France with the approval of Admiral Coligny, the Protestant leader at that time. Two years later the fort was abandoned, and there is now no sign to point out the spot where it once stood.

FORT ARGYLE.

Fort Argyle was the next fort on Georgia soil. It was built by Oglethorpe in 1733 for the protection of his Savannah colony. Then followed a wonderful series of forts, when you consider the few people in Georgia at that time and the dangers of traveling on account of the Indians. But Oglethorpe, braving all perils in the next four or five years had established Forts Thunderbolt, near Savannah; St. Simon, on St. Simon's Island; Frederick, at Frederica, on the same island; Fort William and Fort Andrews, on Cumberland Island, besides several other unimportant ones such as the fort on Jekyl Island and those along the Altamaha. These forts, especially Fort William and Fort Andrews, served as a great protection from the Indians and the Spaniards; but as time went on, the Spaniards ceased invading the country, the Indians were forced westward, and the forts fell into disuse. Indeed by the opening of the Revolution, scarcely a vestige remained of these once important forts.

For some years preceding the Revolution the white settlers on the frontier had much trouble with the Indians, and they began to build forts inland to the westward. In 1774, at Sherrill's Fort, about three hundred men, women and children were massacred. These dreadful massacres continued all during the Revolution at the instigation of the British, and added to the many other troubles of the Georgians the expense of keeping up these frontier forts.

At the opening of the Revolution, though the forts were in sad repair, nevertheless there was a great rush of the Royalists and of the Rebels to get possession of them. The Royalists were at first the more successful. Augusta with Forts Grierson and Cornwallis, Savannah with Forts Argyle and Halifax, Fort Barrington on the Altamaha, and the recently erected Fort Morris south of Sunbury, were all soon in the hands of the British. These positions were all strong and well fortified. The Rebels were not nearly so fortunate. The forts they held were mostly ruins. Fort McIntosh on the Satilla River was the first of their possessions to be beseiged by the British. Captain Richard Winn held the fort with all his powers of endurance against Colonel Fuser, but, with his reinforcements cut off, he was soon obliged to surrender.

PROCEED AGAINST AUGUSTA.

Soon, however, the opportunity of the patriots came. 1781 was the beginning of the change in affairs. Having seized Fort Carr and Fort Howe as the center of operations, the Americans proceeded against Augusta. Colonel Grierson, who was in charge of the fort that bore his name, soon surrendered here, but Colonel Brown was obstinate and strong in his position at Fort Cornwallis. In the end, after an eighteen days' siege, he, too, acknowledged himself beaten.

After varying vicissitudes, the British were finally forced to give up all their strongholds, and thus the Revolutionary forts played their part in history.

During the years that followed there would have been no necessity for any forts in Georgia had it not been for the Indians, especially during the war of 1812, in which the Indians were incited by the British to give trouble. Until 1836 the forts in most general use against the Indians were Forts Hawkins, Mims, Scott and Mitchell.

With the passing of the Indian troubles the Georgia forts were left to absolute ruin, and, when in 1861 the Civil War burst upon the country, there was great need to fortify the land against the enemy. Accordingly, Fort Pulaski, on Cockspur Island, not far from Savannah, was strongly fortified at the cost of $80,000, and Colonel Olmstead with 350 men was placed in command. Receiving word from the enemy to surrender the fort, he answered, "I am here to defend the fort, not to surrender it"; but in 1862 the brave commander was obliged to surrender his treasure.

DUPONT EXPEDITION.

Fort McAllister, though not so strong as Fort Pulaski, being only an earthwork with sand parapets, was notwithstanding an equally important position. Admiral DuPont in 1863 was sent to seize it, but the expedition failed; in 1864, General Hazen's division of General Sherman's army took this fort from Major George W. Anderson. In his letter north, General Sherman praised Georgia's sons for their brave resistance. The surrender of Fort McAllister led in a few days to the surrender of Savannah and the quick ending of the war.

After the Civil War, forts were again neglected and even the new forts began to decay. Throughout Georgia today are to be seen her picturesque, ivy-grown forts, and these are a source of never-failing interest to visitors.

The only regular military post now in Georgia is the beautiful Fort McPherson. This fort covering about two hundred and thirty-six acres, is four miles from Atlanta. It was established by the United States government in 1867 with the name of McPherson's Barracks; it has a postoffice and telegraph station. It has never yet been called into service. Let us hope that it will be many days before Fort McPherson adds its historic story to those of Georgia's other forts.

JAMES EDWARD OGLETHORPE.

James Oglethorpe came of a very old family in England. His father, Sir Theophilus, was a soldier under James II, and went into banishment with him. Just before the abdication of James II, James Oglethorpe, the seventh child and fourth son, was born. At sixteen he entered the University at Oxford, when he was twenty-two, entered the British Army as Ensign, and was soon made Lieutenant of the Queen's Life Guards. His soldier life was spent largely on the continent. He became heir to the estate in Surrey and was shortly after elected to the British Parliament, of which body he remained a member for thirty-two years. He was an active member of the House of Commons, a Deputy Governor of the Royal African Society and a gentleman of high position and independent means, and withal a man of genuine piety. He conceived the plan of establishing a colony in America, which should be a refuge for poor people.

The following description of Oglethorpe is by Rev. Thomas B. Gregory:

"February 12, 1733, Oglethorpe and his Colonists scaled the
Yamacraw bluffs on the Savannah River and began laying the
foundations of the State of Georgia.

The Empire State of the South had its origin in the noblest
impulses that swell the human heart. Its founder, the accomplished
and philanthropic Oglethorpe, witnessing about him in the old
world the inhumanity of man to man, seeing the prisons full of
impecunious debtors, and the highways thronged with the victims of
religious fanaticism and spite, resolved that he would find in the
new world an asylum for the unfortunate ones where they should be
no more oppressed by the rich or dragooned by the bigoted.

The colony started out beautifully. The men who had been pining in
English jails because they could not pay the exactions of their
hard-hearted creditors, and the Salzburgers and others, who, in
Austria and Germany, had been made to feel the terrors of religious
fanaticism, were glad to be free, and they were only too willing
to accept the founder's will that there would be no slavery in
Georgia. The institution got a foothold much later on, but it was
not the fault of the original colonists.

Beautiful, too, were the initial relationships between the
colonists and the red men. Old To-mo-chi-chi, the Chief of the
surrounding Indians, presenting Oglethorpe with a Buffalo skin
ornamented with the picture of an eagle, said to him: 'I give you
this which I want you to accept. The eagle means speed and the
buffalo strength. The English are swift as the bird and strong
as the beast, since like the one, they flew over the seas to the
uttermost parts of the earth, and, like the other, they are strong
and nothing can resist them. The feathers of the eagle are soft and
means love; the buffalo skin is warm and means protection. Then
I hope the English will love and protect our little families.'
Alas! the time was to come when the white man would forget
To-mo-chi-chi's present and the spirit with which it was made.

In 1743 Oglethorpe left Georgia forever, after having given it
the best that there was in his head and heart for ten years. In
1752 Georgia became a royal province, and remained such until the
breaking out of the Revolution in 1775, through which she helped
her sister colonies to fight their way to victory, when she took
her place among the 'old thirteen' free and independent states."

THE CONDITION OF GEORGIA DURING THE REVOLUTION.

When the American Colonies of Great Britain determined to rebel at the stubborn demands of the mother country, Georgia had least cause to join the revolutionary movement.

This colony was by fifty years the youngest of the "original thirteen," and had been specially favored by England. She was the largest, but the weakest, of all the provinces. The landless of other countries and of other colonies had come in large numbers to obtain a home where they might own the soil they tilled. At the beginning of the Revolution the total population of Georgia was about 20,000 whites and 17,000 blacks.

Georgia was now exporting rice, indigo, and skins to Europe, and lumber, horses, and provisions to the West Indies. Tobacco was cultivated with great success by the settlers, and all necessaries of life were easily raised on her soil.

The province boasted of one weekly newspaper, called the "_Georgia Gazette_," which was published every Thursday at Savannah.

Since 1760 the colony had prospered greatly under Sir James Wright, who was one of the most capable and devoted of the British provincial governors. There were few local grievances, and many of the people did not wish to defy the home authority.

But they realized that this restful condition could not long continue, for they occupied an exceedingly dangerous position. The sea coast was easily seized by the British, and they were also exposed to the attacks of the British in Florida, as well as the many savage tribes of Indians on the north and west.

Thus threatened on all sides, Georgia thought it best to join her sister colonies, that she might have protection.

The news of the battle of Lexington removed all hesitation, and united the people of Georgia in the determination to assert their rights. Georgia rallied her mountaineer riflemen to the cause of liberty.

Right manfully did her raw, untrained volunteers respond to the burning, eloquent appeal of Patrick Henry, the Virginian. His speech awoke the sleeping pride of the South, and aroused her sons to action.

Georgia strove to equip her little band of patriots, but she had but few resources. Congress gave her all the aid possible, but soldiers and funds were required everywhere, and Georgia's share was very small. Her sole dependence for protection was her 3,000 raw militia. There were 40,000 Indians to the north and west with 10,000 warriors!

The British bought the friendship of the Indians with presents which the colonists could not afford.

From the first of this war Georgia kept her representatives in the Continental Congress, which met to form plans for mutual protection and defense. In these dark days men thought little of government, nor was much required. Liberty and food and clothing for their families were the principals for which the patriots were now striving.

Many deserters of the American cause took refuge in Florida. These were called Tories. Many of them were lawless men, and continually harassed the colonists of South Georgia. They joined the British and Indians, and made plundering expeditions, sweeping down on the defenseless people, burning the houses, ruining the fields, and committing the most atrocious crimes.

Up to this time, Georgia had often sent food supplies to her countrymen in the north, but now food became so scarce that the governor forbade the exportation of any kind of provisions.

Colonel Brown, who vowed to wreak vengeance on every American citizen, now fulfilled his vow to the uttermost. His murderous bands made their raids in every direction; no mercy was shown to anyone who befriended a patriot.

It seems that the spirit of resistance in the hearts of the people of Georgia would have been crushed by these long continued atrocities. But they never left the field, although often forced to abandon their homes and sometimes even to leave the state.

What better example of the hardihood of the pioneer women of Georgia than in the story of Nancy Hart, a remarkable woman who lived in Elbert County at this time?

When many of the women and children who lived in her neighborhood left their homes to escape the cruelty of Brown's raiders, Nancy Hart remained at home to protect her little property.

How we all love the story of how this rough, simple mountaineer woman outwitted the band of British red coats who demanded food at her cabin.

While she served the meal, she cleverly managed to keep their attention diverted while she signaled for aid, and hid their arms, which they had stacked in a corner. Then, when she was discovered, she covered them with a musket, and, true to her word, shot down the first who stepped forward.

Thus did the women of Georgia meet the dangers to which they were exposed in these perilous times.

When Augusta had been abandoned by the British, many of the inhabitants who had refugeed, returned, hoping for better times. Colonels Elijah Clarke and John Dooly untiringly guarded the frontiers, which were continually threatened by the Tories and Indians. Their zeal encouraged the people, and kept the spirit of liberty awake in the hearts of the sorely-tried patriots.

But their sufferings were not yet over. Savannah must yet be taken from the British. In the long, weary struggle, the brave revolutionists were greatly aided by the French.

The bombardment of Savannah lasted five days. The unfortunate inhabitants suffered greatly. Houses were riddled by shot and shell. Helpless women, children, and old men were forced to seek safety in damp cellars, and even then, many were killed by shots intended for the enemy.

How sad to think of the many precious lives lost in that bloody fray, and the hopes crushed in the hearts of the survivors!

The British still held Savannah, the French sailed away, and the American army retreated northward, leaving Georgia to the enemy.

The death blow had been dealt to the hopes of Georgia. The Tories, exulting in the humiliation of the state, now made raids in every direction, insulting, robbing, and persecuting, the discouraged patriots barbarously. They seized whatever they coveted, clothing, jewels, plate, furniture or negroes. They even beat little children to force them to tell where valuables were hidden.

No mercy was shown to old men who had stayed at home to protect their families. They and their families were driven from the state. All means of conveyance being taken away, even the women and children were forced to make the journey on foot. But the majority of our people were so poor that they were obliged to remain at home, and endure trials more grievous than before.

The conduct of British soldiers in Savannah was such that Whig families residing there found it almost unendurable. But the women bore these hardships with a fortitude becoming the wives of patriots.

At last, three years after the seige of Savannah, Georgia was free of the hated British. Gradually the people returned to their former homes and vocations. But what a sad home-coming! War had laid its desolating hand upon the face of the country.

The state was full of widows and orphans, fully one half of all the available property of her people was swept away, the fields were uncultivated, and there was no money to repair losses. Her boundaries were not well defined, and large tracts of land in her limits were still held by the Indians. Truly, the condition of Georgia was deplorable!

But there was no repining, for the patriots, rejoicing in their liberty, cheerfully set to work to lay the foundations of future prosperity. Gladly they had given their all as the price of Liberty!--_Etowah Chapter._

FORT RUTLEDGE OF THE REVOLUTION.

BY MRS. P. H. MELL.

When the Calhoun plantation (in South Carolina), upon which Clemson College is now located, was purchased in 1826, it was called "Clergy Hall." It received this name because the original mansion was built by the Rev. James McIlhenny who resided there with his son-in-law, the Rev. James Murphy. An old Revolutionary fort known in history as Fort Rutledge was upon this estate, crowning a hill overlooking the Seneca River and when Mr. Calhoun took possession of the place, he changed its name to "Fort Hill." Although fifty years had elapsed since the fort was built and doubtless there were few remains of it to be seen at that time, still many were living who remembered it well, and the hill upon which it stood was known from the earliest settlement of the country by the name of "Fort Hill."

One of the most beautiful drives on the Clemson property is the road to Fort Rutledge which is about a mile from the college. This road winds through rich cornfields of bottom land; it then rises gently to the top of a long level ridge which slopes precipitously down to the fields on one hand and the Seneca River on the other; trees and shrubs thickly clothe the sides of this ridge and beautiful and extended views can be seen in every direction. Looking to the east, Clemson College, seated upon an opposite hill, with its many buildings and the dwellings of the community presents an ideal picture of loveliness; on the north, the Blue Ridge mountains, forty miles away, are clearly seen with several lofty ranges; to the west and south, the eye follows the river winding through smiling valleys, the cultivated fields green with promise which is always fulfilled.

This boldly commanding ridge, overlooking the surrounding country, was well adapted for an outlook during the conflicts between the Indians and the early settlers. The Seneca Indians had one of their largest towns on the river at the base of the hill, extending for four miles on both sides, the hundreds of acres of inexhaustible bottom land supplying them bountifully with corn even with the crudest methods of cultivation.

Nothing remains of the old fort to-day but the abandoned well, which has been filled and is marked by a tangled growth of weeds and shrubs, and the cellar of the old lookout tower or five sided bastion; this is faced with brick and the shape can be seen distinctly.

One of the early battles of the Revolution was fought near Fort Hill at Seneca town at its base. This town was one of note among the Indians and up to this day arrow heads and other implements of war or household use may be found upon its site. For generations the Indians preserved a strong attachment for this spot and up to the time that the college began its active work, "Bushy Head," an Indian Chief from the Cherokee reservation in North Carolina, would lead a band here every summer.

The story of the battle here is taken from official reports and from McCrady's "History of South Carolina."

During the spring of 1776, the Tory leaders, Stuart and Cameron, had informed the Cherokees that a British fleet was coming to attack Charleston and as soon as they heard of its arrival they must fall upon the up-country pioneer settlements and destroy them. With the British to fight in the south and the combined Tories and Indians in the north it was believed that the province would soon be subjugated. The news came to the Indians on the eve of July 1st and at the dawn of day they were on the warpath slaying every white person they could capture, without distinction of age or sex. At this time the Hamptons were massacred with many other families.