Many eager eyes opened the following morning to a dismal sight. Rain fell as if it meant to wash away everything on top of the earth. It continued to rain all morning, and it thus behooved the ladies to provide amusement indoors for the active children.

“I think I will read another chapter of Washington’s life,” suggested Mrs. Parke.

“Read a quiet, uneventful chapter,” hinted Mrs. Davis.

“Read about the battle of Bunker Hill!” cried George.

“On a dreary day like this we ought to read about the dying of the first child of Martha Custis and then later, the death-bed scene of Colonel Custis. Then we can fill in time with reading of Mrs. Custis’ life with her two remaining children after she was widowed,” ventured Mrs. Parke.

But the objections violently raised against such mournful readings, soon quieted both ladies and led them to see the wisdom of a more active tale for that day.

“If you do not care to hear me read of Martha Custis’ bereavement perhaps you will like to hear of her second marriage?” said Mrs. Parke, turning over the pages of the book slowly.

“Oh, aunty, do tell us how Washington met Martha Custis and fell in love!” sighed Anne, the sentimental one of the group.

“If the boys will keep quiet I will read that chapter, and then you girls must promise to listen to a battle scene which I will read to them.”

They all promised to be model listeners, so Mrs. Parke began:

“‘In the month of May, 1758, Washington journeyed from Fort Loudoun to Williamsburg, and in the course of travelling, he first met Martha Custis, the fair widow who was later to be his wife.

“‘The Virginia regiment had great need of necessities, so Washington was sent with dispatches to urge and explain to the Council and Assembly the imperative need of fitting the regiment properly before sending it to the capture of Fort Duquesne.

“‘So George Washington, riding the magnificent horse bequeathed him by Braddock, and accompanied by his servant also acquired in the same manner, was passing the county of New Kent, Virginia, when he met an elderly gentleman riding and looking about as if familiar with the scenery.

“‘Both riders halted, saluted and then rode on together. As they approached the avenue leading to a stately mansion, the elder man placed a detaining hand on the reins, and said:

“‘“Colonel, let it never be said that you passed the house of your father’s old friend without dismounting.”

“‘“But, my dear sir, I ride in haste to bear letters to our Governor in Williamsburg,” objected Washington.

“‘“Nevertheless, my dear colonel, you will dine with me, and borrow some of the fine moonlight to show you the way to the Governor. You will reach Williamsburg ere break of day.”

“‘“Do you promise to excuse me immediately after dinner?” asked Washington.

“‘“With all the promptness of military discipline!” agreed the host.

“‘Thus the young and gallant colonel resigned the reins of his spirited horse to Bishop, the English servant, with orders for him to be ready to pursue the journey the moment he, Washington, came forth.

“‘The name and fame of the young colonel was dear to all Virginians, and the moment the family of the courteous Chamberlayne heard of the arrival of the military guest, each and every one vied to make it a delightful evening.

“‘When Washington was introduced to the guests at dinner and he first met Widow Custis, he was fascinated by her. Both were mutually pleased with each other, nor is this strange. The lady was fair to behold, of gracious manners, and well-endowed with worldly benefits. The hero, famous, and with a form fit for the gods, was just the man to impress this lady.

“‘The morning passed, dinner was concluded, and evening came, while Bishop, true to orders, stood at his post holding the charger which champed at the bit and tossed his mane impatiently.

“‘The sun sank and yet the colonel appeared not. The old and well-trained servant wondered, for his master was never late or behind in his appointments.

“‘Meantime, the host smiled at the scene of the old veteran on duty at the gate while the young colonel was completely entangled with the graces of the fair widow in the parlor of the mansion.

“‘After sunset, Chamberlayne declared that no guest ever left his hospitality at dark, so Washington was easily persuaded to remain over night. Bishop was told to put up the horses for the night and partake of much-needed refreshment in the servants’ hall.

“‘That night, the conversation, the manners, the appearance and the reputation of the colonel, impressed the fair widow Custis as no ordinary mortal had done before.

“‘As the enamored soldier sought again and again the side of the lady who had taken his heart by storm, he felt that fate had at last been kind to him, could he win with what he had to offer.

“‘The sun rode high in the heavens the following day ere Washington mounted for the continuance of the journey. And arrived at Williamsburg to deliver the messages, he tarried but a brief time. Retracing his steps with haste, the ardent colonel again stopped at the home of Chamberlayne.

“‘Becoming a frequent visitor at the home of the late Colonel Custis, he laid siege to the heart and hand of the widow, till she capitulated.

“‘Then there were eager and happy preparations at the White House, the home of Mrs. Custis, for the approaching bridal. Rare indeed was the revelry at that wedding feast in the palmy days of Virginia’s festal age.

“‘The good, the great, the gifted and the gay were assembled at that nuptial ceremony, but of all the grand gentlemen gathered there, not one could aspire to the manners and appearance of the groom himself.

“‘The bride, well-formed, somewhat below the medium size of a woman, was in the bloom of life, handsome, winsome and aristocratic in every way. She had perfect taste in matters regarding the toilette, and was always suitably gowned.

“‘It is recorded that the ceremony took place at the old St. Peter’s Church near the White House. Imagination will better picture this scene of pomp and splendor of the times. The reader can then behold the fairest of Virginia’s daughters arrayed in superb brocades, costly laces, and sparkling jewels supplied by the Old World; and gallant cavaliers in the elaborate and elegant costumes of the time, attending the ladies through the brilliant apartments to the bountiful board in the dining-hall, where glittering with massive plate, loaded with rich viands, old wines, and delicate conserves, the friendly words, merry laughs and witty repartee but enhanced the loveliness of the happy bride, and the triumphant rapture of the love-crowned hero-soldier.

“‘Soon after the marriage, Colonel and Mrs. Washington removed from the White House to Mount Vernon which was henceforth to be the permanent family residence.

“‘The life of Martha Washington thereafter became a part of the history of her country. She entered into the plans and confidences of her husband, and in every way proved the helpmeet for such a noble and great man.

“‘Mrs. Washington was an early riser at all seasons of the year, and after breakfast always repaired for an hour to her chamber where she read from the Bible and prayed, and this practice was never omitted during the half century of her varied life.

“‘In the papers and correspondence left by Colonel Washington it appears that his efforts too, were to augment the comforts and happiness of his home, and everything that could be done for the fair and gentle lady of his heart was accomplished.

“‘It must be remembered that at this period of time, everything in the way of luxury, and even many articles of household necessity, were imported from Europe, and were possible only to the wealthy. Even the clothing and many kinds of food were ordered twice a year by Washington from his English agents.

“‘The affairs of John and Patsy Custis, his stepchildren, were ordered with the utmost care and precision, and reports made and forwarded regularly to the English firm of Robert Gary & Co.

“‘After her removal to Mt. Vernon, Mrs. Washington often accompanied her husband on his official visits to Williamsburg, but her greatest joy was the time passed at home with the congenial work and pleasures of a wife and mother.

“‘At this time, the pursuits of Colonel Washington were those of a retired farmer, yet the social intercourse with people of refinement and position was continued, and a large circle of agreeable and intelligent friends could generally be found enjoying the hospitality of this generous and delightful couple.

“‘But the melancholy event of the passing away of the gifted and favored young daughter from the home of the Washingtons suddenly bereft the family of joy and gladness. The brother, who had walked hand in hand with his beloved sister in all the years of childhood, was grief-stricken beyond words. The mother, who had tenderly watched and planned over the child of many hopes, found her sole help in prayer and reading of her Bible. And the stepfather, as fond of the children as their own father could have been, found solace in work and study.’”

As Mrs. Parke reached this serious part of the history, George sighed loudly. His mother glanced up from the book and he took it for granted that he might speak.

“Don’t you think the girls have had their share for this time?—It’s been all love-making and marrying and funerals! Not a word about Indians or about war.”

“I was just coming to a part of Washington’s life, where it describes his fifteen years of life on his farm, and his membership on the Virginia House of Burgesses,” ventured Mrs. Parke.

“Oh, good gracious! Please don’t give us any more of his quiet life to-day. Look at the way that rain spatters on the windows, and then stop to think how we feel with Washington parading out of a book while he’s planting or hoeing his farm! Give us a fight!” declared George.

Every one laughed and Jack seconded his cousin’s plan for a more active story than the one that had just been read.

“If you insist upon having war when there was no war, I must skip the fifteen years of quiet life on his estate, to get Washington in the midst of fresh battle scenes,” argued Mrs. Parke.

“Why not read us about the Boston Tea Party?” said Anne.

“That will satisfy the boys and interest us girls, too,” added Martha.

Without further remonstrance, Mrs. Parke turned back to the chapter desired and began reading.

“‘During the years between 1765 and 1775, the cry of “Liberty, Property, No Stamps!” sounded from New Hampshire to Georgia. Even when the act—all except the tax on tea—was repealed, the populace concentrated its wrath on tea as the symbol of an intolerable sovereignty which would no longer be endured.

“‘It was but a little more than two years from the time of the first whiff of the delightful beverage, to the time when millions of teakettles steamed merrily on millions of hearths, and the consumption of tea reached more than 5,000,000 pounds a year. Tea houses had sprung up like mushrooms all over the United Kingdom of Great Britain, and of the 5,000,000 pounds imported from China, at least 1,500,000 pounds were sent to the American colonies.

“‘Tea, in short, formed a harmless luxury indulged in by the thousands who, despite the high price and tax, contrived to have it for a delectable drink of an evening when company had to be entertained. Or again it was enjoyed by many as a beverage not willingly sacrificed.

“‘But the harmless drink now started the just and patriotic people to revolt against the tyranny of the Crown. For the next three years after England imposed the high tax on tea, it became the symbol with which men conjured. As for trying to ship tea from England at this time, one would as soon have introduced the Black Plague.

“‘So the contention went on—England remaining proud and defiant in her attitude that British sovereignty must never yield, and the young American colony holding that a great principle underlay the act—that freemen should only be taxed by a representative. And during this time seventeen million pounds of tea had heaped itself in the store-houses of the East India Company.

“‘The northeastern colonies were strenuous examples of precocious political development; Massachusetts embraced the vast territory of Maine, and from this northern boundary to the shore where the Pilgrim Fathers landed, were dotted the decent little villages, and these buzzed and hummed with zealous activities of the people.

“‘It had required a hundred and fifty years from the first step of Plymouth Rock to the beginning of the Revolution. Boston, now a town of 18,000 folk, sent forth a tongue of flame that bespoke defiance to the mother country across the sea. The highest sense of public duty grew in these people as weeds flourish in others. What a time that must have been: Heroes springing up over-night to live forever in the history of the nation. English spies, traitorous Indians, tea parties and tea-ships riding the waves of Boston Bay, not dreaming it was the open mouth of the dragon.

“‘When the Dartmouth, the Eleanor, and the Beaver, therefore, laden with 342 chests of tea, sailed into Boston harbor, the hitherto loosely-membered colonies became welded together, for they were determined to stand together for their principle—Taxation with Representation. Thus the tea that lay scattered one night on the bosom of the sea off Boston, was much the same tea that rotted in the cellars of Charlestown and the South, or mouldered in Philadelphia and New York stores.

“‘Tea stood for Toryism, and no tea meant Independence. All over the land activities started up such as were never before heard of. Looms and spindles whirred as fabrics were woven of home-grown flax and wool, and material hitherto imported from England now began to be made by the colonists at home. Even weapons and ammunition began to be spoken of, and old recipes for manufacturing gunpowder were brought out and experimented with.

“‘Then the “glove” was dropped and the struggle began.’”