He became a Patriot. He was arrested by the British, imprisoned, tortured, and condemned to death. He managed to escape, and reached Philadelphia safely. There he opened his broker’s office in Front Street. He became a great financier. Henceforward he unselfishly devoted his brains, his energy, and his wealth to help win the War for Independence and build up our Republic. FAREWELL! MY GENERAL! FAREWELL! _December 4, 1783_ The War for Independence was over. Thursday the 4th of December was fixed upon for the final leave-taking of Washington with his officers. This was the most trying event in his whole career, and he summoned all his self-command to meet it with composure. Knox and Greene, and Hamilton and Steuben, and others assembled in Fraunces Tavern,[4] and waited with fast-beating hearts the arrival of their Chief. Not a sound broke the silence as he entered, save the clatter of scabbards as the whole group rose to do him reverence. Casting his eye around, he saw the sad and mournful countenances of those who had been his companions-in-arms through the long years of darkness that had passed. Shoulder to shoulder, they had pressed by his side through the smoke of the conflict. He had heard their battle-shout answer his call in the hour of deepest peril, and seen them bear his standard triumphantly on to victory. Brave hearts were they all and true, on whom he had leaned and not in vain. Advancing slowly to the table, Washington lifted the glass to his lips and said in a voice choked with emotion:-- “With a heart full of gratitude and love, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honourable.” A mournful, profound silence followed this short address, when Knox advanced to say farewell. But neither could utter a word,--Knox reached forth his hand, while Washington, opening his arms, took him to his heart. In silence, that was more eloquent than all language, each advanced in turn and was clasped in his embrace. Washington dared not trust himself to speak, and looking a silent farewell, turned to the door. A corps of light infantry was drawn up on either side to receive him, and as he passed slowly through the lines, a gigantic soldier, who had moved beside him in the terrible march on Trenton, stepped from the ranks, and reaching out his arms, exclaimed:-- “Farewell! my dear General, farewell!” Washington seized his hand in both of his and wrung it convulsively. In a moment all discipline was at an end; and the soldiers broke their order, and rushing around him, seized him by the hands, covering them with tears. This was too much for even his strong nature, and as he moved away his broad chest heaved, and tears rolled unchecked down his face. Passing on to Whitehall, he entered a barge, and as it moved out into the bay, he rose and waved a mute adieu to the noble band on shore. The impressive scene was over.