Lawrence Washington was suddenly attacked with a painful and alarming sickness. A change of climate was recommended. With fraternal love George accompanied his brother to the West Indies. The invalid continued to fail, through the tour, and soon after reaching home died. Lawrence was a man of great excellence of character. His amiability rendered his home one of peculiar happiness. At the early age of thirty-four he died, leaving an infant child, and a youthful widow stricken with grief. He left a large property. The valuable estate of Mount Vernon he bequeathed to his infant daughter. Should she die without heirs, it was to revert to his brother George, who was also appointed executor of the estate.
Lord Fairfax visited William, his younger brother, and was so pleased with the country, and surprised at the cheapness with which its fertile acres could be bought, that he purchased an immense territory, which extended over unexplored regions of the interior, including mountains, rivers, and valleys. Lord Fairfax met George Washington at his brother William’s house. He was charmed with the manliness, intelligence, and gentlemanly bearing of the young man. George was then but one month over sixteen years of age. And yet Lord Fairfax engaged him to survey these pathless wilds, where scarcely an emigrant’s cabin could be found, and which were ranged by ferocious beasts, and by savages often still more ferocious. It may be doubted whether a boy of his age was ever before intrusted with a task so arduous.
It was in the month of March, in the year 1748, when George Washington, with an Indian guide and a few white attendants, commenced the survey. The crests of the mountains were still whitened with ice and snow. Chilling blasts swept the plains. The streams were swollen into torrents by the spring rains. The Indians, however, whose hunting parties ranged these forests, were at that time friendly. Still there were vagrant bands, wandering here and there, ever ready to kill and plunder. The enterprise upon which Washington had entered was one full of romance, toil, and peril. It required the exercise of constant vigilance and sagacity.
Though these wilds may be called pathless, still there were here and there narrow trails, which the moccasined foot of the savage had trodden for uncounted centuries. They led in a narrow track, scarcely two feet in breadth, through dense thickets, over craggy hills, and along the banks of placid streams or foaming torrents. The heroic boy must have found, in these scenes of solitude, beauty, and grandeur, some hours of exquisite enjoyment. In a sunny spring morning he would glide down some placid river, in the birch canoe, through enchanting scenery, the banks fringed with bloom and verdure. There were towering mountains, from whose eminences, the eye embraced as magnificent a region of lake and forest, river and plain, as this globe can anywhere present.
It was generally necessary to camp out at night, wherever darkness might overtake them. With their axes a rude cabin was easily constructed, roofed with bark, which afforded a comfortable shelter from wind and rain. The forest presented an ample supply of game. Delicious brook trout were easily taken from the streams. Exercise and fresh air gave appetite. With a roaring fire crackling before the camp, illumining the forest far and wide, the adventurers cooked their supper, and ate it with a relish which the pampered guests in lordly banqueting halls have seldom experienced. Their sleep was probably more sweet than was ever found on beds of down. Occasionally the party would find shelter for the night in the wigwam of the friendly Indian.
Strange must have been the emotions which at times agitated the bosom of this pensive, reflective, heroic boy, as at midnight, far away from the haunts of civilization, in the wigwam of the savage, he listened to the wailings of the storm, interrupted only by the melancholy cry of the night bird, and the howl of wolves and other unknown beasts of prey. By the flickering light of the wigwam fire, he saw, sharing his couch, the dusky forms of the Indian hunter, his squaw, and his pappooses. Upon one or two occasions they found the lonely cabin of some bold frontiersmen, who had plunged into the wilderness, and who was living at but one remove above the condition of the savage. From the journal which he kept we make the following extract, under date of March 15, 1748. He is describing a night at an emigrant’s cabin.
“Worked hard till night, and then returned. After supper we were lighted into a room; and I, being not so good a woodman as the rest, stripped myself very orderly, and went into the bed, as they call it, when, to my surprise, I found it to be nothing but a little straw matted together, without sheet or anything else, but only one thread bare blanket, with double its weight of vermin. I was glad to get up and put on my clothes, and lie as my companions did. Had we not been very tired, I am sure we should not have slept much that night. I made a promise to sleep no more in a bed, choosing rather to sleep in the open air before a fire.”
One night, after a very hard day’s work, when soundly sleeping, his camp and bed, which were made of the most combustible materials, took fire, and he very narrowly escaped being consumed in the flames. After spending several months on the survey, he wrote to a friend in the following strain:
“The receipt of your kind letter of the 2d instant afforded me unspeakable pleasure. It convinces me that I am still in the memory of so worthy a friend; a friendship I shall ever be proud of increasing. Yours gave me the more pleasure, as I received it among barbarians and an uncouth set of people. Since you received my letter of October last, I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed. But after walking a good deal all the day, I have lain down before the fire, on a little hay, straw, fodder, or bearskin, whichever was to be had, with man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats and happy is he who gets the berth nearest the fire. I have never had my clothes off, but have lain and slept in them, except the few nights I have been in Fredericksburg.”
Such experiences not only develop, but rapidly create character. George returned, from the successful accomplishment of this arduous enterprise, with all his manly energies consolidated. Though but seventeen years of age, he was a mature, self-reliant man, prepared to assume any of the responsibilities of manhood.