ill. They had so few clothes to put on when they slept, that

some sat up all night by the fires to keep warm. At one time there were few who had shoes, and the sick had to lie on the bare ground, for want of straw. The head men had to wear old quilts or bed spreads round in the camp, to keep them warm, for want of the right kind of clothes.

The troops were not paid; or the sort of pay they got would not buy them food. Food was so scarce that, at last, the pass word was, "No food--no man." There were men in this camp who had been at the court of kings; who had fed on rich food, and had wine to drink, and now they were like to starve.

All this time Wash-ing-ton did his best to keep up the heart of his troops. He did not tell Con-gress how few and worn they were; and there were those who gave him blame that he did not do great things with these few worn out men. All this time the Brit-ish troops in Phil-a-del-phia had what they chose of good fare, and led a gay life. Some of them, with Gen-er-al Bur-goyne at their head, in the mean time, had two or three fights with our men, but found they did not gain much. At last they were glad to go back. Just as they made a move to do so, our men had the luck to hem them in on all sides in one place and won the day. This was at Sar-a-to-ga. This was good news to those in Val-ley Forge. It brought cheer to them, and they felt brave to go on.

In Eng-land men did not know what to make of our luck. It made a stir in France, where we had friends; and some of their young men came here to join our troops. We had some great French men with us at that time. One whose name is still held in love by all--the great La-fa-yette.

At this time France made a vow to us that she would stand our friend, and give us aid. When this was known in Eng-land, fears rose on all sides; for they knew how much help France could give, and how strong it would make us. They sent men over to talk to us of peace, but it was too late. The A-mer-i-cans had no thought but to be free, and they would take no less than that. But these men still came, and thought they would see what bribes could do. A large sum of gold was held out to Gen-er-al Reed, if he would aid their cause. He said, "I am not worth so much; but such as I am, the King of Eng-land has not so much gold as would buy me!"

But the aid from France was less than they thought it would be. Fleets were sent, but they gave small help to the cause. And so the war went on for three years more. At times our men would make a good fight, and then there would be dark days when the foe had things all his own way. The Eng-lish had paid some tribes of In-di-ans to fight on their side; and once there was a sad scene, where men and their wives and babes were put to death by these fierce wild men. This was not war, of course. We give it a much worse name.

Then there were sea-fights. In one of these, the men on the ships fought three hours, and the ships took fire more than once; but at last the Brit-ish gave up. In that ship the man who took the lead on our side was Paul Jones.

There is a tale told of what the brave wife of one of those men, to whom we give the name of Friends, did for our cause at this time. Gen-er-al Howe made his home in her house, a long low brick one, at Tren-ton. He said to her one day, "I want to have some friends here to night, and I would like to have the spare back room to meet them in."

"It shall be as thee says," said Friend Ruth.

"See that all the folks in the house are in bed at a good hour," said Gen-er-al Howe.

"I will move that they go," said Friend Ruth.

So when the men came to see Gen-er-al Howe that night, it was all still in the house. Friend Ruth let them in.

"You may go to bed and stay till I call," said Gen-er-al Howe.

Ruth went to her room and lay down awhile; but did not take off her clothes. She must know what these men meant to do. At last she took off her shoes and went to the door of the room, and put her ear to the key hole. This is what she heard. Some one reads, "Our troops will make a move by stealth on the foe, and we will take them ere they know we are on them!"

There was no more sleep for Friend Ruth that night. She lay in her bed till dawn; but all her aim was to think of a plan to help our troops, and not to let them fall in the snare. At last she hit on a plan to get out of the lines. She was in need of some flour; and to get flour, she must go to a grist mill, for they did not sell it at stores in those days. Gen-er-al Howe could not say he would not let her get flour, as he ate at her house; so he gave her a pass. While they ground the grist for her at the mill, she rode on as fast as she could, till she came to one of our guards. She said some words to him in a low voice, and rode back, got her flour, and was home in no time.

When Gen-er-al Howe came on our troops the next day, he found them all drawn up in rank and file in good trim to meet him. He thought it best not to have a fight at all; and it was a strange thing to him how they could have known of his move.

Down in the South there were brave men at the head of our troops. One was Ma-ri-on, who led his men through the woods by paths that were known to few. They gave him the name of the "Swamp Fox," and the Brit-ish cast slurs on him, and said he would not come out for a fight in a bold way, but took their posts at night, and when they were off guard. But he gave them a proof of what he could do, when he and Greene fought them and won the day in a fair field. Greene made such a name in this fight that he took rank next to Wash-ing-ton from that time.

We have to tell a sad tale now of one of our own men--a man, too, who had won fame in the war. He had shown that he was brave; but men did not like him much, for he thought more of his own gain than of his land, and he had the wish for a high place, which he did not get. His name was Ben-e-dict Ar-nold, and his bad act was, that he made a plan to sell his own land to the Eng-lish. He wrote to the foe all he could of the moves our troops were to make, and their state, but he did not sign his own name. Once he had his camp at the head of some men at West Point, and he made up his mind to give this place, which was strong with forts, to the Brit-ish. This he would have done, and the whole land would have come to grief, but for a chance that brought the vile plan to light.

One day a young man rides down the path by the stream. There is a wood of oak near. On the ground, by the trees, there are three young men. They have a game of cards. They have been out all night, and have sat down to rest.

They hear the sound of hoofs.

"Some one on his way to New York for trade," says one.

His friend peers out. "No; his clothes are too good for that," he says.

All three spring to their feet, and cry, "Halt!"

The man on the horse stops, and says, "I hope you are on our side."

"Which side is that?" cry the men.

"The side of the King."

"All right," they say; for they wish to find out more.

"Thank God, I am once more with friends!" he says, as he takes out his gold watch. "I must get on. I am in great haste."

"We can not let you go," say the men.

"But I have a pass."

"Whose?"

"Gen-er-al Ar-nold's."

"You must get off your horse."

"But, I tell you, you will get in a scrape if you stop me. Read this pass."

"No good. You said you were Brit-ish; we must search you."

"I have naught."

"We will see. Take off your coat."

The coat is laid off, and the boots. Ah, what is this? The hand of Ar-nold in this; and "West Point" the date. A shout went up, "He is a spy!"

He was a young Eng-lish man by the name of An-dré. He took his watch and purse, and said he would give them all, if they would let him go free. They would not, but took him to the near A-mer-i-can Post to try him. Of course, what Ar-nold had done all came out. He had known this would be the case, for as soon as the news was brought that An-dré was in the hands of our men, he took leave of his wife, gave a kiss to his boy, and sped on his way to an Eng-lish ship. He got to Eng-land, and was paid a large sum of gold; and they gave him a fine place at the head of some troops; but no man would make a friend of him. The Eng-lish had been glad to use him, but they would not take him by the hand.

You may think what a life he had. His own land had cast him out, but he came back to fight her at the head of the foe. But the new land where he had made his home had no real place for him. Once in the great house in Eng-land, where the wise men meet to talk of their laws, one rose to make a speech. But when he saw Ar-nold in a seat near him, he said, "I will not speak while that man is in the house." Long years after, when one of the great men of France had it in his mind to come to this land, he went to Ar-nold for some notes to his friends. Ar-nold said, "I was born in A-mer-i-ca. I spent my youth there; but Ah! I can call no man in A-mer-i-ca my friend."

In the mean time An-dré, the young Eng-lish man, who had met Ar-nold, and got the plans which were to give us up in to the hands of the foe, was shown to be a spy. There was but one doom for a spy. He must be hung. All felt for his fate. He was young, and had a fine face, and the air of good birth; but his hour had come. Tears were shed at his death; though he was our foe. All knew he was a brave man, who had not been slow to risk his life in the cause of his land. He thought he was right, and took all means to serve his own ends. For Ar-nold, who would have sold his own, there was but hate, and they gave him a name which would serve to show what his crime had been to all time--Ar-nold the Trai-tor!

All this while the French had been our friends; but they had not met with a chance to show what they could do, till a great fight came which made an end of this war. This was at a place by the name of York-town, in Vir-gin-ia. Wash-ing-ton was there with his troops, and the French Gen-er-al, who had a hard name, which you may learn one of these days, was with him at the head of his men. They took the best works of the Brit-ish, and made such a brave stand, that Lord Corn-wal-lis thought it would be wise to leave by night, with all his troops. But a storm came, and they could not get off, so they all had to give up to Wash-ing-ton.

There was a grand scene that day, in the fall of 1781, when Wash-ing-ton and his French friends stood in two ranks, and their old foes took up a slow march by them, and laid down their arms as they went. Great was the joy in all the land when the news was known. Those who woke that night in Phil-a-del-phia, heard the watch cry, "Past two o'clock and Corn-wal-lis is ours!" When the news came to Con-gress, they sent out word for a day to be set, in all the States, to give thanks to God, and all who were held for debt, or for crime, or what cause it might be, were set free, that they might share the great joy.

Well might they all be glad, for this meant the end of the war. It had cost them dear in gold as well as lives; but it had been worse for Eng-land than for them. The sums she had spent were vast, and one could not count the lives she had lost. Add to this the fact that she had lost this great land, which had once been all her own, and now was made free. Our land now took a new name. You can read it, I know, though it is not in short words, "The U-nit-ed States of A-mer-i-ca."