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thee GOLDEN DAYSrost>
FEBRUARY 19, 1887.
fire of logs which roared and crackled
up the wide stone chimney. .
His grandfather did not notice the
gloomy look upon his usually pleasant
countenance as he turned away, pulling
en his mittens with an angry jerk, and
started for the door.
But there was one who did observe_his
irritated manner, and that was Mrs. Bar-
low, Nat’s gentle, sweet-faced mother,
who was moving quietly about the kitch-
en, engaged, with the assistance of a col-
ored servant, in setting the table for sup-
er. As Nat was going cut, she said to
im:
“Nathan, you can tell Uriah that I
would like to have some chickens killed
and dressed for to-morrow’s dinner; and
you can help him catch them after sup-
“Very well, mother.”
But the boy did not smile, as he almost
always did when speaking to his mother.
-’ He went out, without’ turning his head ;
and it must even be admitted that he
slammed the door behind him with unne-
, cessary emphasis.
“That boy makes noise enough for two
boys!” grumbled Grandfather Barlow ;
and he went on expressing his opinion of
the Continental army and his. objections
to the state of things in general. .
Mrs. Barlow stepped out into the shed
adjoining the back kitchen, just as Nat
~ was going around the corner of the house
toward the barn. She called him, and he
came to her at once, but with the flash of
anger still lingering in his eyes.
“Nathan, dear,” said his mother, gen-
tly, “you should not allow yourself to
feel hard toward your grandfather. You
must remember that he is old, and does
~ not realize that things are changed since
the days when he was in his prime.”
“Well, mother, I try not to feel so.
But I say it is hard to think of the poor
soldiers, camping out there in the wood:
this cold weather, without clothes to keep
them warm, and half of them with no
shoes to their. feet,” said Nat, with
mournful, earnestness, “while we who
can’t fight, nor do anything else for our
eountry, have a good roof over our heads
and more clothes than we can ever wear
out.””
@
~ “Nay, my son; it is true that we can-
not fight, but I think we can do some-
thing for our country, even though it be
but little,” said gentle Mrs. Barlow. “We
will do what we can, you and 1.”
“Oh, you can doa good deal, mother.
I know well enough what becomes of the
warm stockings you are knitting all the
time,” said Nat, looking fondly at- his
~ mother.
It will be inferred from this conversa-
tion that Mrs. Barlow and her son were
ardent patriots, although the head of their
household was such a bitter Tory.
lady was a ‘widow, Nat's father having
&
>. died before the opening of the war for
independence. She was born and brought
up in Massachusetts Bay, and one of her
‘brothers had been killed at Lexington;
and though living among people whose
sympathies were on. the other side, she
. Wad taught her son to love his country’s
cause. They knew what sore privation
the defenders of that eause were suffer-
ing, and how urgent was their need of all
‘the aid that loyal hearts and loyal hands
~ eould render,
“I tell you, mother, it makes my heart
ache to hear Uriah tell how they live there
in camp; so many of them sick, with no
comforts, and not half enough to eat—
and our big barns full of wheat!” said
Nat, bitterly. ‘And Uriah says—”
But there Le stopped himself,
“What does Uriah say?” inquired his
mother,
“Well, he says,’’ answered Nat, with
energy, “that he and I could take a load
of that wheat and get it ground, and carry
it into the camp at Valley Forge before to-
morrow night.’”
~ “Why, Nathan r’
Mrs. Barlow looked surprised, but far
from disapproving, and Nat was ready
with his rejoinder: .
“Well, mother, you said we would do
what we could.”
“Yes, Nathan, and so we will. You
and Uriah may do what you propose—if
ean.”’
you
Grandfather Barlow himself, with all
his blustering, could not have spoken in
a more determined accent; for Nat's mo-
ther, gentle as she was, had as resolute a
will to serve her country as any true-
hearted woman of those old Revolution-
ary days. Could she have done so, she
would have sent every bushel of that
wheat to Valley Forge, and’ felt that she
was doing right, and she said:
“Your grandfather will not- allow any
grain to be taken from the barns, unless
it goes to feed the king’s army; but if
you boys can find a way to carry some to
our own poor soldiers, you have my permis-
sion. If it comes to grandpa’s know-
ledge, I will take the responsibility. You
may tell Uriah.so.”"
“All right, mother ; that’s all we want,”
eried Nat, joyfully. ‘*Grandfather told
us to get out twenty bags of rye, and take
them to the mill to-morrow morning; and
Uriah says if we can’t manage to get one
grist ground for ourselves and another
for the camp, he will eat his head!”
“That isa rash promise,’ Mrs. Barlow
said, laughing; and, more seriously, she
added, “* Perhaps the king’s men will take
your grist away before you get iu to the
camp.” - “
This apprehension was not without
grounds, for the country was overrun
with foraging parties from:the. British
headquarters at Philadelphia. But Nat
Teplied : .
“Uriah says he will risk but what he
ean fix up the load so that nobody will
know what we carry.” - . .
Nat’s frequent reference to what ‘Uriah
said” appeared to indicate a good deal of
faith in that personage, and Mrs, Barlow
seemed to share the feeling. .
She made no inquiries about his plan of
operations, but simply remarked: . -
“Uriah will be cautious, no doubt. You
may as well tel! him to killa couple of |
dozen chickens this evening, and I will
help to ¢ress them. Iam sure they would
be appreciated by the sick soldiers.” .
And Mrs, Barlow filled a kettle with ic
water from the bucket in the shed, and,
returning to her kitchen, went ealmly on.
with the work of getting supper.
at, highly elated by her approval of
the plan he had proposed, rushed off to
the barn, where he found his associate in
the project occupied in filling bags with
grain for the grist.
Uriah Dayton was a tall, ungainly, but
good-hearted and shrewd-headed Penn-
sylvania boy, who had worked on the Bar-
low farm ever since he was old enough to
work; and he had felt himself old enough
to work as soon as any one was willing to
employ. hin.
He felt himself old enough at eighteen
to fight for his country’s freedom, and
Nat and Mrs. Barlow knew that he meant
to join the army when the campaign
opened in the spring. -
Uriah was a patriot heart and soul. He
had been to Yalley Forge more than once
that winter, and he certainly could have
told what became of the warm woolen
stockings which were always being “fin-
ished otf” by Mrs, Barlow’s busy knitting-
needles, -_
* On hearing Nat’s report of his confer-
ence with his mother, Uriah nodded sage-
ly, and remarked : “
“Your mother’s the true blue, and no
mistake, Nat. That's just what I thought
she’d say !’”
That evening, after supper, there was
a great commotion in the hen-coop, which
. so fong that Grandfather
Barlow declared those boys would fright-
en all the fowl to death, catching haif a
dozen chickens. -
ut, long after the old_ gentleman was
sound asleep in bed, and Sally, the col-
ored servant, had retired to her chamber
in the attic, Mrs. Barlow and the two
boys were silently at work, dressing off a
score of plump young chickens, of Nat’s
own raising, and the fattest of his flock.
After that,.the boys went out with a
lantern, and Joaded up the big sled-wagon
with the grist of rye which was ready for
the mill, and it was nearly midnight when
at last they sought their beds,
Nat was up, however, long before day-
light the next morning; but, early as it
was, he found that Uriah was before him,
and that his mother had their breakfast
ready. =
While they were eating it, she filled a
basket with bread and cheese and cookies,
to last them through the day, for she said :
ey ave a good day’s work before
you, boys, and you will’ want your din-
ner: but you must try to get back by sup-
per-time.” :
“T guess we can,” said Uriah. “ We've
got a good while yet before daylight.’
“Is it snowing?” asked Nat, as he tied
na muffler over his fur cap, for it was a
cold morning. ~
“No,” said Uriah; “but I shouldn’t
ight.”
wonder if it did, before n
hey went noiselessly out to the barn,
and Nat fed the farm horses, and hitched -
them to the loaded sled, while Uriah was
getting out several bundles of straw,
which he placed upon the load.
And then, as quietly as possible, they
drove out of the yard, and down the
road which Jed toward the mill.
bout a mile from the Barlow farm-
house, another road_branched off among
the lonely roads and hills along the frozen
Schuytkill; and a thick growth of ever-
green shrubs and _ trees, close to the road-
side, made the dark winter morning still.
darker in their shade.
Here the boys drew up their team, and
rapidly unloaded all the bags of rye and
bundles of straw, and piled them out of
sight. behind a thicket of evergreens.
Then they drove back home again as fast
as they could go.
he day was just beginning to dawn,
but nobody was up in the house except
Mrs. Barlow, who came tothe shed door
and waved her hand to the boys, as a sign
that the coast was still clear.
They were not long in taking on an-
other load of grain; but this time it was
wheat, as much as the wagon-bolly would
hold, for Nat and Uriah had hunted up
all the bags they could find, and filled
them over night.
When their second load was ready, they
left it standing until they had finished up
the usual morning “chores,” and it was
broad daylight when they started off
again,
ern time they kept on to the mill,
which was two miles beyond the’ place
where they had left their first load.
The miller was an early riser, and he
was already going about his day’s work
when the two boys arrived with their
load of wheat. ~ .
Uriah told him to make haste and grind
it, while they went back to get a grist of
Tye. .
Back they went, accordingly, ard got
the twenty bags of grain which they had
hidden by the roadside, leaving the straw,
Their wheat was not all ground when
they returned to the mill, but they had to
wait for it only a short time; and, after
taking out the miller’s “toll,” there was
a wagon-load of nice, new flour, which
made Nat’s heart rejoice to think hew
many hungry soldiers it would feed.
The boys were both excited with the
spirit of their patriotic enterprise; but
they subdued their ardor, and started
away sedately, telling the miller they
would come after the rye-tlour along to-
ward night. .
When they reached the point where the
two roads united, they turned, and took
the course which lay along the river and
led to Valley Forge; but first they stop-
ped and dragged out those bundles of
straw from the thicket, and arranged
them on the load, concealing the flour-
agzs complete! ey
“There,” said Uriah, when this was
done, “if we fall in with any Britishers,
I don’t believe they’li stop us for a load
of straw.”
it was a lonely road which the boys had
to traverse, and a long one, too, for it was
more than ten miles to Valley Forge; but
they did not encounter any British for-
gers.
It began to snow before they reached
the camp, and Nat remarked that if they
should happen to get belated coming
home, it was lucky that Uriah knew the
way, or they might get lost in the storm.
Uriah said he knew the way well enough,
but they did not want to get belated, for
all that, and he kept the horses going as
fast as they could properly be driven,
with such a load.
On drawing near the camp, they were
stopped by a picket, who would ‘not let
them pass until he knew their business,
This was what, Uriah had expected, for
he knew that every precaution was taken
to keep unfriendly strangers from entering
Valley Forge, lest the deplorable state of
the army should be made known to the
British commander at Philadelphia, who,
had he been aware of their thiserable
condition, could have crushed the patriot
forces “at a single blow,” as one histo-
Tian says.
Uriah told the picket-guard that he and
Nat were friends to the cause, and that
their sled was loaded with bread-stuff for
the goitiers:
“‘I have been here before,” h
“ Sergeant Tackett knows me.” @ added.
ne soldier did not know Serges
Hackett, but he knew that the ‘amy
wanted bread. And just at that moment
it happened that the sergeant himself
caine along, with a squad of men who
had been out foraging, but were return-
ing almost empty-handed. Ye recogniz-
ed Uriah, and the two boys, with their
load, were conducted into camp.
As they passed the rude log huts, in
nearly every one:of which was lying
some poor soldier, sick and comfortless,
and looked upon the tattered, barefoot.
men who gathered, pinched with eold and
faint for want of food, around the fires,
they were sad at heart to think how little
their one load of flour could do, after all,
to feed so many—more than eleven thou-
sand—hunery soldiers. _-
They wished they could have furnished
for all those starving patriots, and
Nat wished that the dozen pairs of stock-
ings which his mother had intrusted to
his keeping could have been so multiplied
as to cover every bleeding foot that trod
the snows of Valley Forge. --~ - ~ 4
A crowd of soldiers quickly collected
around the boys and their seeming load
f straw, and. Uriah’s friend, Sergeant
Hackett, said, loudly : -
“*Fellow-soldiers, here are two young-
sters who have come ten miles to bring us
something to eat. - Fall to and unload the
a?
“We can’t eat straw,” said a ragged sol-
dier, staring at the sergeant.
“No, but you ean sleep on it,” replied
Uriah, promptly. ‘And there’s flour un-
derneath—enough to make quite a num-
ber of loaves of bread.” -
“And twenty fat chickens,” added
°
2
oe
at. .
“And -a dozen‘ pairs of good warm
stockings,” said the sergeant, as he. un-
tied the bundle which.Nat had given him.
‘Knit by this fine lad’s mother,”’ he con-
tinued, “expressly for us poor, barefoot-
ed beggars! They are not the first we
have had from: the same good lady, God
bless her?” . . oe
* And a dozen voices echoed:
“Godbless her!” ~
By this time the sled was unloaded,
and the soldiers were crowding around
the two boys, with grateful blessings for
the food they brought, and cheers of ap-
probation for their patriotic zeal, .
he sergeant offered to give them a
certificate which would entitle them to
payment for the flour ; but Nat answered,
laughing: . .
“We don’t want any pay, and grand-
father wouldn’t take any from you reb-
els! He said he would ‘burn down the
barn sooner than let you get any of his
grain ; but you’ve got some, all the same,
and you must give him the credit.”
“Three cheers for the old man!’ cried,
out an enthusiastic soldier, who had not.
gausne the exact drift of Nat's explana-
ion.
. ue
And, oddly enough, the whole crowd of
dauntless patriots burst into a perfect a
storm of cheers for Grandfather-Barlow,
the most determined old ‘Tory ‘within
twenty miles of Valley Forget” °
At this moment the’ boys beheld a tall
and stately figure on horseback coming
toward them through the erowd—a° man
whom they had never seen before, yet
they both ‘knew him by his commanding
air and noble, serious face, even before
the sergeant said...
“ Were comes the general 1’?
‘The soldiers moved aside Tespectfully,
and ceased their cheering; their haggard
faces brightened, and their eyes grew soft
with reverent affection, as they silently
made way for their beleyed chief. :
Whatever doubts were’ raised in other
quarters, as tu the wisdom and military
tact of Washington, his army. never wa-
vered in their Joyal trust in him—a_ trust
well grounded in their knywledge of his
lofty character, They loved him and re-
vered him like a father, and they never
lost their faith that he *would lead them,
through al! their woes -and sufferings, to
victory and piumph in-ttheend, ©. 0. - +
Passing through the camp, the gene-
Tal's attention had been attracted by the
sound: of cheering, and he: came to in-
quire what it meant. .
he Sergeant, in a few words, explain-
ed the situation, and Washington, turn-
Ing to the two: awe-struck boys, took ~
them each in turn by the hand, as, in a
gracious and benignant voice that sunk
into their very hearts, he said : -
“Tam glad to see, my boys, that you
love your country.” . -
ora asked their names. Tees
~ Uriah blushed, and answered, simply :
“Uriah Dayton, sir.” . py
‘My name is Nathan Barlow, and I do *
love my country, sir,” said Nat, with boy-
ish fervor.. “My mother says it is right
longer, I mean to join the army.”
ger, n army.
“ Let us chope,” said Washington, with
a grave smile, “that we shall have peace
and freedom long before you are old ‘
Papp IT an GENRES AA A cm arte
