and shone in patches of brilliant color about the garden, alternating
with the long-cast shadows of cedar, cypress, and yellow pine; fruit
turned to opulent red and purple ripeness in the orchards; and the song
of birds, like subdued music, came from tree and flower-lined border. In
close proximity to the house Indian corn was growing, and a wide area of
wheat ripened to harvest, while beyond, like a vast green ocean,
stretched the great tobacco plantation, with here and there the dark
blot of a drying shed like a rude ark resting upon it. In the far
distance, bounding the estate, a line of dark woods seemed to shut out
the world and wrap it in impenetrable mystery. Over all this great
estate the boy sitting on the hummock was known as the young master, but
he was not dreaming of a future which should have wealth in it,
pleasure, all that the heart of a man can wish for; but of toil and
hardship bravely borne, of fighting days and camp fires, of honor such
as heroes attain to.

He had been born in stirring times. For more than five years past war
had been in the land, the struggle for freedom against a blind and
tyrannical government. It had been one thing to make the Declaration of
Independence, it had been quite another matter to carry it into effect.
Early success had been followed by disasters. Washington had been
defeated on Long Island; his heroic endeavor to save Philadelphia by the
battle of Brandywine against an enemy far superior in numbers had
failed; yet a month later a large British force had been compelled to
surrender at Saratoga. These fighters for freedom seemed to know defeat
only as a foundation upon which to build victory. England might send
fresh armies and fresh fleets, but there were men on land and sea ready
to oppose them, ready to die for the freedom they desired and the
independence they had proclaimed; and it was only a few months ago that
the war had been virtually ended by the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at