And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof:
Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall be,
Our government firm, and our citizens free.
“Now that we have put the United States on a good running foundation, I think we might finish up our Revolutionary history by whirling out to Valley Forge,” said Mrs. Morton. “It’s a delightful ride, and I think we could do it comfortably in what is left of the afternoon.”
“I shall be glad,” said Helen, pretending extreme fatigue, “for these ignorant people have made me work so hard remembering dates and things, that I’m quite exhausted, and I’d like to sit still and view the scenery for a while.”
The chauffeur said that he could manage the ride and even give them time for a walk when they reached their destination, if they were not in a hurry to return.
“I think it would be fun to come back in the evening,” said Margaret, and they started off with great satisfaction.
As they passed Fairmount Park they promised themselves to see it in detail in the morning, but now there was only time to notice that much of it had been left in a natural condition, which was far more beautiful than any results that Art could have brought about.
The road lay through a rolling country with pleasant suburban towns and comfortable-looking farm houses. At Valley Forge they felt like real pilgrims at a shrine, for they remembered the bitter suffering of the American soldiers and the even greater mental anguish of their leader, who sometimes felt that he had led his brave men into this distress, and might not be able to lead them to the victory which he must have, if the colonies were to become independent of the land they had sprung from.
Across the surrounding hills they walked, reading with utmost interest the monuments and markers which commemorate events and places and people connected with this fateful winter. Below swept the Schuylkill River, between peaceful banks, far different from those that hem it in farther down, as it runs through the great city.