CHAPTER VIII.

IN TIMES OF PEACE.

When peace came, the men who had been in camp went to their own homes. They were all poor, and did not know what to do. There was no gold in the land, but a kind of cash which was so bad that it took more than you could count to buy a pair of shoes. Gen-er-al Wash-ing-ton found his task more hard to keep all in good cheer, now there were no fights on hand, than when they were at war. There had to be a tax on some things to keep all right, and they did not want to pay the tax, or their debts at this time. Wash-ing-ton felt that things were at loose ends, and he must make them more strong.

Each State had a wish to be first; and it would seem that, with no foe to fight, they were on the point of war with their own selves. There was need of a strong hand to rule the whole land. So men were sent out of each State to meet in Phil-a-del-phia and talk of the best plan. They had a long talk, and at last wrote what we call the "Con-sti-tu-tion." Ten of the States gave it their vote at once; but three held back for a while.

There were grand times in our land when it was known that the Con-sti-tu-tion was to be our guide; that we were to be in truth, "The U-nit-ed States of A-mer-i-ca," with one will, one aim, one soul as it were, while time should last.

A great crowd came out in Phil-a-del-phia to show their joy. Each trade had its men there, with the tools of the trade in their hands. There was a grand car, made in the shape of that bird which we chose as the sign of our land. It was drawn by six steeds, and in it sat those who were to judge the folk in our great courts. They held a staff, and on it was our "Con-sti-tu-tion," in a frame, and on the top of the staff a cap, which we might call the cap of the free--a kind they were fond of in France at that time. There were ten ships on the river, gay with flags and gilt, to show forth the ten States that had cast their vote in the right way.

George Wash-ing-ton was made the first Pres-i-dent, and as he took his way to New York, which was then the seat of rule, he met joy and kind words on all the route.

At Tren-ton, where he had fought, there was an arch thrown out on a bridge, where he must pass. This was hung with wreaths, and young girls stood with hands full of sweet buds and bloom, which they flung in his path, as they sung a song to greet him, and thank him for all he had done.

As he drew near New York, a barge came out to meet him. It had a crew all in white, and was meant to show the States--a man for each State. Then more boats came to join them, with our flag on each. Wash-ing-ton was led in great state to his new home. When the time came for him first to meet with the folk and take the oath to be true to the Con-sti-tu-tion, there was such a rush to the place that some one said, "One might walk on the heads of the crowd." When Wash-ing-ton came out where all could see him, and the oath was read to him, and he took it, a great cheer rent the air, and a cry rang out, "Long live George Wash-ing-ton, Pres-i-dent of the U-nit-ed States." There was a flag flung out from that Hall, a peal of bells rang, and a blast was sent out from the guns, to show the joy and the love with which they took him for their chief. This was on April 30, 1789.

War is bad for all folks; for it is hard, when it is past, for men to learn the arts of peace. Wash-ing-ton found the whole land in debt. They did not want a tax, and the red men were still their foes. But in a few years he made a great change. The In-di-ans were put down, and France and Spain and Eng-land were brought to deal with us as friends. It was a man by the name of John Jay, who wrote out the terms with Eng-land, and so we had peace for a time.

Just then there was a great fight in France, not with a foe, but in their own midst. The men there had seen how our land had won the day, and they had a mind to be free and have no King. They did not go at it in the same way that we did; but shed much blood of their own folk, and cut off the heads of their King and Queen, and did things which made good men sad. But they said they did it all to be free. There was a reign of fright for a time. But at last, the mob could rule no more, and they were glad to take a King.

Wash-ing-ton kept up great state, for those times, in his own home, and when he drove out he had a state coach, cream white in hue, and drawn by six steeds on state days. He took but one horse on the Lord's day, when he rode to church. This coach was of the shape of a half sphere, and had wreaths, and the forms of small fat boys with wings, drawn on it in gay tints. He set days for all to come and see him in his home. Those who came would see Wash-ing-ton in front of the fire place, and near him the band of great men who gave him help with their wise words. He would be, seen in a coat of black, with a vest of white or pearl, and buff gloves. His hair was made white with a kind of dust they had in use in those days; and it was put in a sort of silk bag at the back of his head. That was a queue.

He would have his hat in his hand, and he wore a long sword. He did not shake hands with his guests, but made them a bow, and had some word for each. His wife, too, had times for her friends to come; and all must be in full dress--the dames in low necks and short sleeves. On the birth day of Wash-ing-ton, men would meet to dine in all the large towns; and those who made rhymes would write odes to the great man. There were some who did not like all this state and form and show. They thought it was too much like the style of kings in the old land, and they would have been glad to have a new mode here. They did not wish to see a Judge in a robe of red, or the man who was to preach in the church in a wig, with gown and bands. They were for plain dress and plain ways.

You may see now bits of the stiff, rich silks of those days, or it may be a quaint old gown, rich in lace, which has been kept from that time. You may see in your mind the dame who wore it, as she waves her fan, sent from France, with the head of Wash-ing-ton on it. The hair of this dame would be drawn high on her head, and made white with the dust of which I spoke, and put in great puffs. The men whose trade it was to dress hair in those days had such a crowd of folks to fix, that they had to get up at four to do the work. I have heard of great dames who sat up all night to keep their hair in good style for some ball, or the play. The men, too, thought quite as much of dress as their wives, and in those days they did not wear plain cloth suits as now. Then a man put on a wig, and a white stiff stock, that held up his chin; a vest of white silk, it may be with rose-buds on it, and all the rest of his clothes were rich.

It was the mode to have a snuff box in those days; it might be of gold, or some dear stuff, with much work on it, and when one met a friend they would be as sure to stop and take a pinch of snuff as to lift the hat in our time.

They gave Balls in those days, which were quite grand, but they did not dance in the same way as now. They had all sorts of slow steps and bows. There was a kind of stiff grace in their style, and some would like it more now, than the rush and whirl of our mode of to-day. The dames were borne in a sort of chair through the streets to these Balls.

All this was the way of life with the rich. The poor still wore the clothes they spun and wove, and they made their own lights, and struck fire with two flints. They had not seen a match then, and did not dream of gas, or of the strange new light which has been found in our time. They went to bed with the chicks, and rose when the cock crew. The towns at the North throve the best. At the South towns were few, and in the far West the foot of man had not yet found its way.

Those brave men who had first come to this land, had seen here and there in the South a strange plant. It had a sort of bulb full of a fine white down, and those who had seen it in hot lands knew it could be spun, and cloth made from it. It was not hard to make it grow; but the white fluff was so full of seeds that it took a whole day to get a pound free from them. Wise men saw in this plant a great fund of wealth for the States. So they set to work to find a quick way to take the seed out.

There was a man in the East who heard of this, and set his brain to work. He was a young man by the name of E-li Whit-ney; and he had not seen the plant when he took it in his head that he could find a way to "gin" it; for that is the name of the work. He had to walk all the way to one of the towns at the South, to get the seed, and as he had no tools or wire, he had to make them. You may think that was slow work, but he had a strong will, and when he had made a rude "gin," he bade his friends come and see how it would do. All saw that it would work well; but some thieves broke in his house at night and stole it. So there was a long time that the man who made the "gin" got nought for it. For those who stole it made gins like it and sold them. These gins did the work well and fast, and so there grew up a great trade for us in this soft white fluff.

It is made in cloth for you to wear, and is spread on your beds, and will take all sorts of bright dyes. We sell it to all the world, and wealth flows in on all sides. This would not have been the case had not the young man, E-li Whit-ney, made the "gin."

The death of one of the great men of the land came to pass at this time. We have told you of Ben-ja-min Frank-lin. He was born in Bos-ton, and he was the son of a poor man. But he knew how to print, and he set up a press in a room where he could print each morn the news of the day. He did not scorn to sell all sorts of wares as well, such as rags, ink, soap, and such things. He had read a great deal, and found out more than those round him knew. You have seen the sharp light play in the dark clouds in a storm. You know that it strikes at times; it may be a house or a barn or a man, and that the one who is struck is apt to die.

Well, Frank-lin thought that this light could be drawn down from the skies, and when he heard a laugh at this, he set to work to prove it. He sent his son out one day in a storm, with a kite in his hand. As a low black cloud went by, they saw the fierce light tear through it; it would seem that the light ran down the string of the kite. Frank-lin had put a key on this string, and when he made his friends touch that key, they drew sparks from it. So they saw that he had found out a great thing; and from that has come the plan of the rods that are now put on a house to keep it safe in a storm. This gave him fame here and in the rest of the world. He was sent to France and made strong friends for us there. He is said to have done more good works for his land than all the rest of the men of his time. So it is not strange that all felt sad when death took him from us.

The French, too, met in their great hall to mourn his loss; and one of their chiefs said, "The sage whom two worlds claim as their own is dead;" and they wore crape on their arms for three days, for his sake.

While Wash-ing-ton had the rule of the land, more new States came in. The first of these was Ver-mont. This State was full of green hills and strong brave men, who had cut down the trees and made homes there. Once New York laid claim to this land, but they could not drive these brave men out. They thought they had a right to the soil, and they sent a man, by name E-than Al-len, to talk with the men of New York. He was met with gibes and sneers, but he would not yield. He said to them in words from the good Book, "Our gods are gods of the hills, so they are more strong than yours."

So when the men from New York came to drive out those who had made homes in the midst of these hills, they found a stout foe. The Vermont boys would take those who came and tie them to trees and whip them with rods from the beech trees. To this they gave the name of "the beech seal;" and those from New York did not care to have the "beech seal" put on them more than once. They grew mad, of course, and they sent out bills in which they set forth that they would give a good price for the head of E-than Al-len. But in time peace was made in these two States, when they had fought side by side in the great war. And so Ver-mont was brought in and took that name, which means "Green Hills."

The next State that came in was Ken-tuck-y. This land was next to Vir-gin-ia, and for a time held to be a part of that State. The first man who made his way through its wild woods and hills was Dan-iel Boone, who had won a name for the way he could go in to the nooks and glens and trap wild beasts for their fur. He took a small band of men with him, and they had no fear, but went far in where man had not yet trod, to hunt or fish, or make salt at the "Salt Licks" or springs. He built forts and held them with his few friends for quite a time, spite of the red men. But once they took him and bound him, and thought they could make him one of them; so much did they like his strength and pluck, but he got free. When men heard of his brave deeds, more came to help him. The most of them were from Vir-gin-ia, and brought their slaves with them.

The In-di-ans were in a rage at all this new force, and made the best fight they could to drive them from the soil; so that whole land came to be known as the "Dark Land of Blood." In time, peace was made, and the land grew to a State by the name of Ken-tuck-y.

Wash-ing-ton held his post for two terms, or eight years, and he did not wish to serve more. So John Ad-ams was the choice of all, for the next chief of our land.