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have signed or admitted had they not been sup- pressed or softened by the interpreter. (See note at end of chapter xii., vol. i. t of Irving's " Life of Washington.") The course now adopted by Gov. Dinwiddie in the reorganization of the Vir- ginia troops, against which Washington remon- strated, and which would have reduced him to an inferior grade, led at once to his resignation, and, after a brief visit to his mother, he retired to Mount Vernon. He was soon solicited by Gov. Sharpe, of Maryland, then the commander-in-chief of the English forces, to resume his station, but un- der circumstances and upon conditions incompati- ble with his self-respect. In declining the invita- tion he used this memorable language : " I shall have the consolation of knowing that I have opened the way, when the smallness of our num- bers exposed us to the attacks of a superior enemy ; and that I have had the thanks of my country for the services I have rendered." But now Gen. Braddock was sent over from England with two regiments of regulars, and Washington did not hesitate to accept an appointment on his staff as a volunteer aide-de-camp. The prudent coun- sels that he gave Braddock before he set out on his ill-fated expedition, and often repeated along the road, were not followed ; but Washington, notwithstanding a violent attack of fever, was with him on the bloody field of the Monongahela, behaving, as his fellow aide-de-camp, Col. Orme, testified, " with the greatest courage and resolu- tion," witnessing at last Braddock's defeat and death, and being the only mounted officer not killed or disabled. " By the all-powerful dispensa- tions of Providence," wrote he to his brother, " I have been protected beyond all human probability or expectation ; for I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me, yet I escaped unhurt, although death was levelling my compan- ions on every side." It fell to him by a striking coincidence — the chaplain being wounded — to read the funeral service at the burial of Braddock at the Great Meadows, the scene of his own capitu- lation the year before. In a sermon to one of the companies organized under the impulse of Brad- dock's defeat, and in view of the im- pending dangers of the country, the Rev. Samuel Da- vies, an eloquent and accomplished preacher, who, in 1759, succeeded Jonathan Edwards as president of Princeton college, after praising the zeal and courage of the Virginia troops, added these prophetic words : " As a remarkable instance of this, I may point out to the public that

heroic youth, Col.

Washington, whom I cannot but hope Providence has hitherto preserved in so signal a manner for some important service to his country."

A force of 2,000 men having now been ordered to be raised by the Virginia assembly, Washington was appointed to the chief command, and estab- lished his headquarters at Winchester. He broke a,way from the perplexing cares of this place in February, 1756, to make a hurried visit to Gov. Shirley in Boston, where he settled successfully with him, then the commander-in-chief of the English forces on this continent, a vexatious ques- tion of precedence between the provincial officers and those appointed by the crown. On his return he devoted himself to measures for the security of the frontier. In the course of the following year he was again the subject of a violent fever, which prostrated him for several months. "My constitution," he wrote to a friend, " is much im- paired, and nothing can retrieve it but the greatest care and the most circumspect course of life." Un- der these circumstances he seriously contemplated again resigning his command and retiring from all further public business. But his favorite measure, the reduction of Fort Duquesne, was at length to be undertaken, and, after much disappointment and delay, Washington, on 25 Nov., 1758, was privileged to " march in and plant the British flag on the yet smoking ruins " of that fort — henceforth to be known as Fort Pitt, in honor of the great minister of England, afterward Lord Chatham.

Meantime Washington had chanced to meet on his way to Williamsburg, at the house of a hos- pitable Virginian with whom he dined, a charming widow, who at once won his heart. Most happily he soon succeeded in winning hers also, and on 6 Jan., 1759, she became his wife. Martha Cus- tis, daughter of John Dandridge and widow of John Parke Custis, was henceforth to be known in history as Martha Washington. He had now finally resigned his commission as a colonial offi- cer, and was preparing to enjoy something of the retirement of private life. But while he was still absent on his last campaign he had been chosen a delegate to the Virginia house of bur- gesses, and he had hardly established himself at Mount Vernon, a few months after his marriage, when he was summoned to attend a session of that body at Williamsburg. He was not allowed, how- ever, to enter unobserved on his civil career. No sooner did he make his appearance than the speaker, agreeably to a previous vote of the house, present- ed their thanks to him, in the name of the colony, for the distinguished military service he had ren- dered to his country, accompanying the vote of thanks with expressions of compliment and praise which greatly embarrassed him. He attempted to make his acknowledgments, but stammered and trembled and " could not give distinct utterance to a single syllable." "Sit down, Mr. Washing- ton," said the speaker, with infinite address; "your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language I possess."

Fourteen or fifteen years more elapsed before the great struggle for American independence began, and during all this time he continued to be a member of the house of burgesses. He was punctual in his attendance at all their sessions, which were commonly at least two in a year, and took an earnest interest in all that was said and done, but " it is not known," says Sparks, " that he ever made a set speech or entered into a stormy debate." He had a passion for agricultural pursuits. He delighted in his quiet rural life at Mount Vernon with his wife and her children — he had none of his own — finding abundant occupation in the management of his farms, and abundant enjoyment in hunting and fishing with the genial friends and relatives in his neighborhood. He was vestryman of two parishes, regular in his attendance at one or the other of the parochial churches, at Alexandria or at Pohick, and both he and his wife were communicants. Meantime he