Probably there never before turned such vast consequences on a single musket-shot as on that fired by Washington in the commencement of this skirmish. Its echo went round the globe; it was the signal-gun breaking up the councils and diplomatic meetings of Europe, and summoning the two greatest powers of the world to arms to struggle for a continent. It began the long war which drove France out of America, and made a warlike people of the colonists, who were jealous of their rights. When the revolutionary struggle afterward commenced France was but too glad to help despoil England of the rich possessions of which the latter had robbed her, and saw with undisguised pleasure an independent government rise on these shores. But the French army, in helping republicanism, became republican, and scattered the doctrine of human rights throughout France. Her bloody revolution was the result. Met by the feudalism of Europe, it went rolling over the French borders, deluging the continent in its rash flow. The shout of the oppressed masses was heard rising amid the din of battle, and the low and threatening undertone of their mutterings makes monarchs at this day turn pale on their thrones, while the end is not yet.

What a long and frightful train of events that single shot set in motion. When the news reached France, it threw both government and people into a state of high excitement. War had begun, and the name of Washington was heard for the first time in the saloons of Paris, and loaded with opprobrium. His attack was declared base and wicked, and Jumonville was regarded as the victim of assassination. A poem was written to commemorate his sad fate, and Washington was looked upon as no better than a robber. It was asserted that Jumonville was on a peaceful mission, and had begun to read the summons he bore, when Washington fired upon him. This was false, and expressly declared so by the latter. The fact that Jumonville was intrusted with

summons commanding the English to evacuate the territory, does not make his mission a peaceful one. Besides, he did not advance like one on a friendly errand, but lay skulking about with an armed force. Washington, when sent by Dinwiddie to the French, took only necessary guides. If, with a body of troops, he had lain for days about the fort, and when assailed had made no effort at explanation, but continued to fight till overpowered, it would have been perfectly absurd to pretend that he was on a peaceful mission. Still, French writers denounced Washington unsparingly, and to this day pronounce his attack unlawful and wicked. But the blame, whether much or little, rested on Governor Dinwiddie, not on himself, for the former had directed him to drive the French from the English territory, and he had been sent out with an armed force for that express purpose. He could not have done otherwise than obey the orders of the government. The fact that war had not been declared could make no difference, for the French had already commenced hostilities, by investing an English fort and forcing the garrison to capitulate. To expect Washington to sit still and see a second taken without striking a blow, would be absurd.

The latter, knowing that as soon as the news of his attack on Jumonville should reach Fort Du Quesne, a heavier force would be sent against him, retired at once to his little fort, which he named Fort Necessity.

But while compelled to prepare for the exigencies growing out of a superior force in his front, he had also to contend with the insubordination of his troops, especially the officers, whose pay had been reduced so low, that it would not meet their necessary expenses, and who, indignant at the meanness of the government, declared they would go home and leave the army to take care of itself. Washington, in this dilemma, put on the "hypocrite as far as he could," and endeavored to convince them it was better and

more honorable to remain where they were, while at the same time he wrote to Governor Dinwiddie, stating the feelings of the officers, and remonstrating boldly against the insane policy which made them inferior to the king's officers. He declared that, so far as he was concerned, it was not the smallness of the pay that made him indignant, but the injustice and dishonor of this invidious distinction, while in fact the services he and his fellow officers were required to perform, were enormous and hazardous in the extreme. "For my own part," said he, "it is a matter almost indifferent whether I serve for full pay, or as a generous volunteer. Indeed, did my circumstances correspond with my inclinations, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter; for the motives that have led me here are pure and noble." Here, in the midst of the forest, liable at any moment to be struck down, by an act of executive authority, he nevertheless kindles into stern indignation against the wrong committed by that authority, and demands a recognition of those claims of his officers and men, which he deems to be just and honorable.

While thus surrounded by a murmuring army-threatened by a superior enemy, and destitute of the necessary provisions for his detachment, he received word of the death of his senior in rank, Colonel Fry, at Will's Creek. He was now commander-in-chief. But soon after, an independent company from South Carolina arrived, commanded by Captain Mackay, who, having a royal commission, ranked Washington. Here a new difficulty arose, and had not Mackay been a thorough gentleman, it would have been a serious one. The latter, however, contented himself with a mild refusal to obey the colonel's orders, and with his one hundred men encamped by himself, Washington, foreseeing the embarrassment in which this divided command would place the entire force, wrote to Governor Dinwiddie to settle the difficulty by a direct explicit order. The latter

refused to take the responsibility of deciding on so grave a matter as who should command four hundred men; and Washington, in order to avoid a quarrel, determined with his troops to leave the fort and advance to the Mononga hela, while Captain Mackay remained at Fort Necessity. The nearest practicable route to Gist's settlement, thirteen miles distant, was through a terrific mountain gorge. Compelled to hew and dig a road that would admit the transportation of cannon, beset by friendly Indians, delayed by their troublesome councils and importunities, and deceived by spies, he occupied two weeks in making this short march.

Having at length arrived there, Washington sent out scouts, who kept him informed of all the movements at Fort Du Quesne. Being at length convinced that large reinforcements had arrived from Canada, he called a council ǝt war, to determine what course should be pursued. At first it was resolved to make a stand where they were, and a fortification was commenced, and a messenger dispatched to Mackay to hasten forward. The latter, like a true soldier, immediately marched to their relief; when another council was called, in which it was decided that, the enemy being in such heavy force, it would be more prudent to retreat. This was no easy matter, and at the same time drag nine swivels over the rough road that lay between the settlement and Fort Necessity. There were but few horses, and those comparatively worthless, so that soldiers were compelled to man the drag-ropes. To set a good example, and encourage and render cheerful the men, Washington gave up his own horse to carry the public stores, and paid the soldiers for transporting his necessary baggage. By dint of great labor they got back to the Great Meadows in two days. They could, however, go no farther, for they had been withou bread eight days, and, weary and half-famished, found only two bags of flour at the fort. The want of horses are or

visions, together with the news that two New York companies had twenty days before arrived at Alexandria, and hence must now be very near them, induced Washington to order a halt, and begin to intrench himself as best he might where he was. An express was sent to these New York companies to hurry forward, and every effort put forth to strengthen the impromptu works of Fort Necessity.

At length, on the morning of the 30th of July, a musket-shot was heard, and soon after a sentinel, who had been wounded by the enemy, came limping in. Scouts who had been sent out returned breathless with haste, saying that the enemy, nine hundred strong, was only four miles distant. This was stirring news, and Washington immediately drew up his little band of four hundred outside the trenches, and gave the orders not to fire till the enemy was close enough to let their volleys tell. At eleven o'clock the French approached, but halted when six hundred yards dis tant and commenced firing. Washington, after receiving their fire for some time, and seeing that they had no intention of attempting to carry the works by assault, as he expected, marched his men in again, and told them to fire when and how they pleased. That little breast-work was soon blazing with the irregular volleys. The French however remained at such a distance, and were so sheltered by the trees, that but little execution was done. The rain fell in torrents all day, drenching both armies and filling the trenches round the fort with water. This, however, did not cool the combatants, and a sharp fire was kept up the whole day, and, as twilight deepened over the dripping forest, its dark arcades were lit up by incessant flashes. But at eight in the evening the French called a parley, and requested an officer to be sent to them. Vonbraam, a Dutchman, being the only one that could speak French, was dispatched, and soon returned with a paper containing articles of capitulation. Washington and his officers knew