Indeed it seemed to many that Washington bore a charmed life, and it was often said that he was under the special protection of God. He was fearless, and constantly exposed to danger, but his constant escapes made him cool and self-possessed, and the admiration of his men. He was excited by the events which were hurrying the war to the close, and he watched with intense earnestness the several assaults which were made on the works. Once he had dismounted and was standing by Generals Knox and Lincoln at the grand battery. It was not a safe place, for, though they were behind a fortification, it was quite possible for shot to enter the opening through which they were looking. One of his aids, growing nervous, begged him to leave, for the place was very much exposed. “If you think so,” said Washington, “you are at liberty to step back.” Presently a ball did strike the cannon, and, rolling off, fell at Washington’s feet. General Knox seized him by the arm. “My dear General,” said he, “we can’t spare you yet.” “It’s a spent ball,” replied Washington, coolly. “No harm is done.” He watched the action until the redoubts which his men had been assaulting were taken; then he drew a long breath of relief and turned to Knox. “The work is done,” he said emphatically; “and well done.” The siege was short, the work was sharp, for it was full of enthusiasm and hope, and when, on October 19, the army of Lord Cornwallis surrendered to General Washington, there was a tumult of rejoicing in camp which was long remembered. Washington issued orders that the army should give thanks to God. “Divine service,” he said, “is to be performed to-morrow in the several brigades and divisions. The Commander-in-Chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and astonishing interpositions of Providence demand of us.” The officers of the combined armies spent some time in the neighborhood, and there was a great ball given at Fredericksburg by the citizens of the place. The most distinguished guest was the mother of Washington, then seventy-four years old, who came into the room leaning on the arm of her son. She was quiet and dignified, as one after another of the French officers made his bow and his complimentary speech; but I think there must have been a great deal of motherly pride in her heart, though it is said that when her George came to see her alone after the victory at Yorktown, she spoke to him of his health, marked the lines of care in his face, spoke of his early days, and gave him a mother’s caution, but said nothing of the glory he had won. To the last he was her boy, and not America’s hero. CHAPTER XXI. WASHINGTON RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION.