George Washingtons Last Duel | Page 4

long detour around Miss Jemima when she accosted him.
"Uncle George."
"Marm." He stopped and half turned.
"What a charming old place you have here!"
George Washington cast his eye up towards the old gentleman in the
high-backed chair, as much as to say, "You see there? What did I tell
you?" Then he said briefly:
"Yes, 'm."
"What is its extent? How many acres are there in it?"
George Washington positively started. He took in several of the family
in his glance of warning.
"Well, I declare, marm, I don't know," he began; then it occurring to

him that the honor of the family was somehow at stake and must be
upheld, he added, "A leetle mo' 'n a hundred thousan', marm." His
exactness was convincing. Miss Jemima threw up her hands:
"Prodigious! How many nee---- how many persons of the African
blood are there on this vast domain?" she inquired, getting nearer to her
point.
George, observing how much she was impressed, eyed her with rising
disdain:
"Does you mean niggers, m'm? 'Bout three thousan', mum."
Another exclamation of astonishment burst from the old lady's lips.
"If you will permit me to inquire, Uncle George, how old are you?"
"She warn see if I kin wuck--dat's what she's after," said George to
himself, with a confidential look at a young gentleman in a hunting
dress on the wall between two windows. Then he said:
"Well, I declare, mum, you got me dyah. I ixpec' I is mos ninety years
ole, I reckon I'se ol'er 'n you is--I reckon I is."
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Jemima with a little start as if she had pricked
her finger with a needle.
"Marse Nat kin tell you," continued George; "if you don't know how
ole you is, all you got to do is to ax him, an' he kin tell you--he got it all
set down in a book--he kin tell how ole you is to a day."
"Dear, how frightful!" exclaimed Miss Jemima, just as the Major
entered somewhat hastily.
"He's a gone coon," said George Washington through the crack of the
door to the old gentleman in ruffles, as he pulled the door slowly to
from the outside.
The Major had left the young people in the dining-room and had come

to get a book to settle a disputed quotation. He had found the work and
was trying to read it without the ignominy of putting on his glasses,
when Miss Jemima accosted him.
"Major, your valet appears to be a very intelligent person."
The Major turned upon her.
"My 'valet'! Madam! I have no valet!"
"I mean your body servant, your butler"--explained Miss Jemima. "I
have been much impressed by him."
"George!--George Washington?--you mean George Washington! No,
madam, he has not a particle of intelligence.--He is grossly and densely
stupid. I have never in fifty years been able to get an idea into his
head."
"Oh, dear! and I thought him so clever! I was wondering how so
intelligent a person, so well informed, could be a slave."
The Major faced about.
"George! George Washington a slave! Madam, you misapprehend the
situation. He is no slave. I am the slave, not only of him but of three
hundred more as arrogant and exacting as the Czar, and as lazy as the
devil!"
Miss Jemima threw up her hands in astonishment, and the Major, who
was on a favorite theme, proceeded:
"Why, madam, the very coat on my back belongs to that rascal George
Washington, and I do not know when he may take a fancy to order me
out of it. My soul is not my own. He drinks my whiskey, steals my
tobacco, and takes my clothes before my face. As likely as not he will
have on this very waistcoat before the week is out."
The Major stroked his well-filled velvet vest caressingly, as if he
already felt the pangs of the approaching separation.

"Oh, dear! You amaze me," began Miss Jemima.
"Yes, madam, I should be amazed myself, except that I have stood it so
long. Why, I had once an affair with an intimate and valued friend,
Judge Carrington. You may have heard of him, a very distinguished
man! and I was indiscreet enough to carry that rascal George
Washington to the field, thinking, of course, that I ought to go like a
gentleman, and although the affair was arranged after we had taken our
positions, and I did not have the pleasure of shooting at him.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss Jemima. "The pleasure of shooting at
your friend! Monstrous!"
"I say I did not have that pleasure," corrected the Major, blandly; "the
affair was, as I stated, arranged without a shot; yet do you know? that
rascal George Washington will not allow that it was so, and