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Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans Part 6

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For seven long years he, hacked and whacked With all his might and main Until the Brit-ish sailed away And did not come again.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

HOW BENNY WEST LEARNED TO BE A PAINTER.

In old times there lived in Penn-syl-va-ni-a a little fellow whose name was Ben-ja-min West. He lived in a long stone house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Painting Baby's Portrait]

He had never seen a picture. The country was new, and there were not many pictures in it. Benny's father was a Friend or Quaker. The Friends of that day did not think that pictures were useful things to make or to have. Before he was seven years old, this little boy began to draw pictures. One day he was watching the cradle of his sister's child.

The baby smiled. Benny was so pleased with her beauty, that he made a picture of her in red and black ink. The picture of the baby pleased his mother when she saw it. That was very pleasant to the boy.

He made other pictures. At school he used to draw with a pen before he could write. He made pictures of birds and of animals. Sometimes he would draw flowers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Flower and Fruit of the Poke-Berry.]

He liked to draw so well, that sometimes he forgot to do his work. His father sent him to work in the field one day. The father went out to see how well he was doing his work. Benny was no-where to be found. At last his father saw him sitting under a large poke-weed. He was making pictures. He had squeezed the juice out of some poke-berries. The juice of poke-berries is deep red. With this the boy had made his pictures. When the father looked at them, he was surprised. There were portraits of every member of the family. His father knew every picture.

Up to this time Benny had no paints nor any brushes. The Indians had not all gone away from that neigh-bor-hood. The Indians paint their faces with red and yellow colors. These colors they make them-selves.

Sometimes they prepare them from the juice of some plant. Sometimes they get them by finding red or yellow earth. Some of the Indians can make rough pictures with these colors.

The Indians near the house of Benny's father must have liked the boy.

They showed him how to make red and yellow colors for himself. He got some of his mother's indigo to make blue. He now had red, yellow, and blue. By mixing these three, the other colors that he wanted could be made.

But he had no brush to paint with. He took some long hairs from the cat's tail. Of these he made his brushes. He used so many of the cat's hairs, that her tail began to look bare. Everybody in the house began to wonder what was the matter with p.u.s.s.y's tail. At last Benny told where he got his brushes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Making a Paint Brush.]

A cousin of Benny's came from the city on a visit. He saw some of the boy's drawings. When he went home, he sent Benny a box of paints. With the paints were some brushes. And there was some canvas such as pictures are painted on. And that was not all. There were in the box six beautiful en-grav-ings.

The little painter now felt himself rich. He was so happy that he could hardly sleep at all. At night he put the box that held his treasures on a chair by his bed. As soon as daylight came, he carried the precious box to the garret. The garret of the long stone house was his stu-di-o. Here he worked away all day long. He did not go to school at all. Perhaps he forgot that there was any school. Perhaps the little artist could not tear himself away from his work.

But the schoolmaster missed him. He came to ask if Benny was ill. The mother was vexed when she found that he had staid away from school.

She went to look for the naughty boy. After a while she found the little truant. He was hard at work in his garret. She saw what he had been doing. He had not copied any of his new en-grav-ings. He had made up a new picture by taking one person out of one en-grav-ing, and another out of another. He had copied these so that they made a picture that he had thought of for himself.

His mother could not find it in her heart to punish him. She was too much pleased with the picture he was making. This picture was not finished. But his mother would not let him finish it. She was afraid he would spoil it if he did anything more on it.

The good people called Friends did not like the making of pictures, as I said. But they thought that Benny West had a talent that he ought to use. So he went to Phil-a-del-phi-a to study his art. After a while he sailed away to It-a-ly to see the pictures that great artists had painted.

At last he settled in England. The King of England was at that time the king of this country too. The king liked West's pictures. West became the king's painter. He came to be the most famous painter in England.

He liked to remember his boyish work. He liked to remember the time when he was a little Quaker boy making his paints of poke-juice and Indian colors.

WAs.h.i.+NGTON'S CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Was.h.i.+ngton was fighting to set this country free. But the army that the King of England sent to fight him was stronger than Was.h.i.+ngton's army. Was.h.i.+ngton was beaten and driven out of Brook-lyn. Then he had to leave New York. After that, he marched away into New Jersey to save his army from being taken. At last he crossed the Del-a-ware River.

Here he was safe for a while.

Some of the Hes-sian soldiers that the king had hired to fight against the Americans came to Trenton. Trenton is on the Del-a-ware River.

Was.h.i.+ngton and his men were on the other side of the Del-a-ware River from the Hes-sians. Was.h.i.+ngton's men were dis-cour-aged. They had been driven back all the way from Brook-lyn. It was winter, and they had no warm houses to stay in. They had not even warm clothes. They were dressed in old clothes that people had given them. Some of them were bare-footed in this cold weather.

The Hes-sians and other soldiers of the king were waiting for the river to freeze over. Then they would march across on the ice. They meant to fight Was.h.i.+ngton once more, and break up his army. But Was.h.i.+ngton was thinking about something too.

He was waiting for Christmas. He knew that the Hessian soldiers on the other side of the river would eat and drink a great deal on Christmas Day.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Marching to Trenton.]

The afternoon of Christmas came. The Hessians were singing and drinking in Trenton. But Was.h.i.+ngton was marching up the river bank.

Some of his bare-foot men left blood marks on the snow as they marched.

The men and cannons were put into flat boats. These boats were pushed across the river with poles. There were many great pieces of ice in the river. But all night long the flat boats were pushed across and then back again for more men. It was three o'clock on the morning after Christmas when the last Americans crossed the river. It was hailing and snowing, and it was very cold. Two or three of the soldiers were frozen to death.

It was eight o'clock in the morning when Was.h.i.+ngton got to Trenton.

The Hessians were sleeping soundly. The sound of the American drums waked them. They jumped out of their beds. They ran into the streets.

They tried to fight the Americans.

But it was too late. Was.h.i.+ngton had already taken their cannons. His men were firing these at the Hessians. The Hessians ran into the fields to get away. But the Americans caught them.

The battle was soon over. Was.h.i.+ngton had taken nine hundred prisoners.

This was called the battle of Trenton. It gave great joy to all the Americans. It was Was.h.i.+ngton's Christmas gift to the country.

HOW WAs.h.i.+NGTON GOT OUT OF A TRAP.

After the battle of Trenton, Was.h.i.+ngton went back across the Delaware River. He had not men enough to fight the whole British army.

But the Americans were glad when they heard that he had beaten the Hessians. They sent him more soldiers. Then he went back across the river to Trenton again.

There was a British general named Corn-wal-lis. He marched to Trenton.

He fought against Was.h.i.+ngton. Corn-wal-lis had more men than Was.h.i.+ngton had. Night came, and they could not see to fight. There was a little creek between the two armies.

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Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans Part 6 summary

You're reading Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Edward Eggleston. Already has 752 views.

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