ng men, whose eyes were sharper
and whose hands were steadier than mine, and bade them bring
him down. It was all in vain: their bullets glanced from him as
if he had been a rock. I saw two horses fall under him, shot
dead; yet he rose unhurt. Then did I lay my hand on my mouth in
wonder, and bade my young men turn their rifles another way;
for the Great Spirit, I knew, held that young warrior in his
keeping, and that his anger would be kindled against us if we
desisted not. That young warrior, the favorite of Heaven, the
man who is destined never to fall in battle, now stands before
me. Once more mine eyes have seen him, and I shall now go away
content.'

"And now, Ned, my boy," said Uncle Juvinell, after he had ended this
oration, "can you tell me what a charmed life is?"

"One that is bullet-proof, I suppose," replied Ned.

"You don't mean to say that Washington was bullet-proof, do you, Uncle
Juve?" put in doubting Charlie.

"No, not exactly that, my little nephew," replied his Uncle Juvinell;
"and yet a great deal more: for, beyond all doubt, an all-wise
Providence raised up George Washington to do the good and great work
that he did, and to this end shielded him when encompassed by the
perils of battle, strengthened him when beset by the wiles of
temptation, and cheered him when visited by the trials of adversity.
Dr. Davis, a famous preacher of that day, seemed to have looked upon
him, as did the old Indian, as one favored of Heaven; for, in a sermon
preached by him a few weeks after Braddock's defeat, he spoke of Col.
Washington as 'that heroic youth, whom, he could not but hope,
Providence had preserved in so signal a manner for some important
service to his country.' And now, my little folks, the clock strikes
nine, and our Christmas logs burn low: so join your old uncle in an
evening hymn; then haste you to your happy beds to sleep and dream the
peaceful night away."

XVIII.

WORK IN EARNEST.

Hardly had the last clod been thrown on poor Braddock's grave, when
his army was seized with a second and most unaccountable panic; for no
one could tell from whence or how it came. With those horrid yells
still sounding in their ears, and those ghastly sights of blood and
carnage still fresh in their memories, they fancied they heard, in
every passing gust that stirred the dead leaves, warning whispers of
the stealthy approach of the dreaded enemy