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vincials were prepared for the campaign. Noah Stevens was captain of one of the companies of militia which rendezvoused at Fredericktown, Maryland, where General Braddock joined them.

When Braddock set out from Alexandria, on April 20, 1755, his troubles began. The Virginia contractors, who were to prepare the road for his army, had failed to fulfil their engagements, and of all the immense transportation so confidently promised, but fifteen wagons and a hundred draught horses had arrived, with no prospect of more. They were equally disappointed in pro

visions.

General Braddock's temper, never the best, was sorely tried on this occasion. At Fredericktown he met Benjamin Franklin, who was then about forty-nine years of age, had served several years in the Pennsylvania Legislature, and was now postmaster-general for America. Knowing the bitter feeling of General Braddock against the provincial assemblies, Franklin was advised to wait on the general, not as if sent by them, but as if he came in his capacity of postmaster-general, to arrange for the sure and speedy transmission of dispatches between the commander-in-chief and the governors of the provinces. He was well received and became a daily guest at the general's table.

The philosopher, seeing how shallow was the

general's knowledge of the impediments before him, ventured to remark one day at the commander's dinner-table that the mountains were hard to pass with troops and their supplies, and that the Indians were dexterous in laying and executing ambushes. Braddock haughtily answered:

"The savages may be formidable to your raw American militia; but upon the king's regulars and disciplined troops it is impossible that they should make any impression."

"No, egad!" put in Major Bridges, "the sav ages before the king's regulars will melt away like frost in May. Zounds! but I only hope they may be at Fort Du Quesne on our arrival."

Dr. Franklin was as much disgusted at the egotistical major as was Noah Stevens, and not much less disgusted with the general himself. As the delay of the army was caused by lack of conveyances, Franklin one day observed that it was unfortunate that his troops had not landed in Pennsylvania, where almost every farmer had his wagon. Braddock was not slow at taking a hint, and he instantly replied:

"Then sir, you, who are a man of interest there, can probably procure them for me, and I beg you will."

"I will do so."

"Will you? Then Mr. Franklin, you have re

lieved me of a great responsibility and my mind of a great burden."

An instrument in writing was drawn up, empowering him to contract for one hundred and fifty wagons, with four horses to each wagon, and fifteen hundred horses with pack saddles for the service of his majesty's forces, to be at Wills Creek on or before the 20th of May. Dr. Franklin at once took his departure to execute the important com

mission.

CHAPTER XIII.

DEFEAT AND DEATH.

Soldier, rest: thy warfares o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more,

Days of danger, nights of waking,

In our isle's enchanted hall.

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing;

Fairy streams of music fall,

Every sense in slumber dewing.

"GET up! Get up!"

"Move on!"

-SCOTT.

Crack went whips, and the heavy wagons were drawn slowly over the hills.

"Do you feel better, colonel?" asked Noah Stevens, who sat in the wagon by the side of Colonel Washington.

"Somewhat.

tain?"

What are the appearances, cap

"No sign of an enemy yet."

"Of course not; we have not crossed the mountains; but we will meet them before we reach Fort Du Quesne. How do the regulars stand the

march?"

Noah Stevens shook his head and said:

"Not so well as our provincial soldiers, colonel." "One could not expect it. They have passed their days in camps and know nothing of these rough marches. They are unaccustomed to hardships and short allowances."

Washington then sat up and, lifting a side curtain of the jolting wagon in which he was riding, gazed out on the scene. It was a strange scene, decidedly military in appearance. A long line of muddy wagons was slowly toiling up a great slope. It had rained the night before, and the newly made road was, in places, little more than a succession of mud holes. On their right was a battalion of British regulars, striving to preserve some degree of order. Each man carried, in addition to his musket, bayonet and cartridge box, his knapsack filled with luxuries and things which a camp regular deems indispensable, but which no experienced campaigner would dream of carrying. The poor fellows were faring badly. shoes and doeskin leggings were besmeared with mud, while their pretty red coats and regalia were stained and soiled. Some had lost their tall caps and marched on bare-headed.

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They are learning what it is to campaign in a wilderness," said Washington, with a smile.

"I hardly think that General Braddock will

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