SELECTIONS FOR CHILDREN’S READINGS BETSY BRANDON’S GUEST A True Tale of How a Little Maid Entertained General Washington It was a bright spring morning in 1791, and the sun shone as bright over the Brandon plantation as it did in the county town of Salisbury. Yet little Miss Betsy Brandon, sitting lonely and disconsolate on the piazza of the great plantation house, did not think of the sunshine, did not notice the gay tulips nodding good morning, did not listen to the merry songs of the birds, for her thoughts were in Salisbury, and she longed to be there. For not more than an hour ago all the family had driven to the town to see General Washington, who was to be received there with great honor, and with as handsome a demonstration as the brave, patriotic folk of the town and county could make for him. It was a wonderful thing, this Southern tour of the General-- now President of the United States. He had traveled in his family carriage all the way down from Virginia, through the Carolinas and Georgia near the [coast] to Savannah, and was now returning through the “up-country,” stopping at Augusta, Camden, Charlotte and other towns. All along the route people united to do him honor, and war-worn veterans who had followed his standard pressed near to grasp his hand. And now that he was coming to Salisbury such grand things were to be done! Capt. John Baird, in command of the “Rowan Light Horse Company,” had gone to meet him at Charlotte and escort him to Salisbury. A company of boys--one of whom was Betsy’s brother--were to meet him half a mile from town and march as his escort with the men. And the boys were to be in uniform, and were to wear buck tails in their hats. And Betsy’s sister was to be one of the little girls, all dressed in white, to scatter flowers before the General when he entered the town. Oh, it would all be beautiful! Yet Betsy must stay at home. Was it not a little hard? And was it altogether strange that twelve-year-old Betsy, in spite of the self-control taught by the strict old-time discipline, must, from time to time, wipe away the gathering tears?