“Wait at my house until the cool of the evening,” he urged.
But Blue-Eyed Boy said, “No, I must cross this morning, and my pony: I’ll pay for two if you’ll take me.”
The ferryman crossed the river with the boy, who, on the other side, inquired his way to the headquarters of the general.
Warm, tired, hungry, and dusty, he urged his pony forward to the place, only to find that he whom he sought had gone to divine service at St. Paul’s church.
Blue-Eyed Boy rode to St. Paul’s. In the 124 Fields (now City Hall Park) he tied his faithful horse, and went his way to the church.
Gently and with reverent mien, he entered the open door, and listened to the closing words of the sermon. At length the service was over and the congregation turned toward the entrance where stood the young traveler, his heart beating with exultant pride at the glorious news he had to tell to the glorious commander.
How grand the General looked to the boy, as, with stately step, he trod slowly the church aisle accompanied by his officers.
Now he was come to the vestibule. It was Blue-Eyed Boy’s chance at last. The great, dancing, gleeful eyes, that have outlived in fame the very name of the lad, were fixed on Washington, as he stepped forward to accost him.
“Out of the way!” exclaimed a guard, and thrust him aside.
“I will speak! General Washington!” screamed Blue-Eyed Boy, in sudden excitement. The idea of anybody who had seen, even through a key-hole, the signing of the Declaration of Independence, being thrust aside thus!