George Washingtons Last Duel | Page 7

much interested that she just knew
that Lawrence half stamped his foot.
"Yes, he said just that, and I told him--"
"Well,--what did you say?"
"Oh! I did not bargain to tell what I told him. I received payment only
for betraying his confidence. If you drive a bargain I will drive one
also."

Rose declared that he was the greatest old screw she ever knew, but she
paid the price, and waited.
"Well?--"
"'Well?' Of course, I told him 'well.' I gave him the best advice a man
ever received. A lawyer would have charged him five hundred dollars
for it. I'm an oracle on heart-capture."
Rose laughingly declared she would have to consult him herself, and
when the Major told her to consult only her mirror, gave him a courtesy
and wished he would teach some young men of her acquaintance to
make such speeches. The old fellow vowed, however, that they were
unteachable; that he would as soon expect to teach young moles.

IV.
It was not more than a half hour after this when George Washington
came in and found the Major standing before the long mirror, turning
around and holding his coat back from his plump sides so as to obtain a
fair view of his ample dimensions.
"George Washington," said he.
"Suh."
"I'm afraid I'm growing a little too stout."
George Washington walked around and looked at him with the critical
gaze of a butcher appraising a fat ox.
"Oh! nor, suh, you aint, not to say too stout," he finally decided as the
result of this inspection, "you jis gittin' sort o' potely. Hit's monsus
becomin' to you."
"Do you think so?" The Major was manifestly flattered. "I was
apprehensive that I might be growing a trifle fat,"--he turned carefully

around before the mirror,--"and from a fat old man and a scrawny old
woman, Heaven deliver us, George Washington!"
"Nor, suh, you ain' got a ounce too much meat on you," said George,
reassuringly; "how much you weigh, Marse Nat, last time you was on
de stilyards?" he inquired with wily interest.
The Major faced him.
"George Washington, the last time I weighed I tipped the beam at one
hundred and forty-three pounds, and I had the waist of a girl."
He laid his fat hands with the finger tips touching on his round sides
about where the long since reversed curves of the lamented waist once
were, and gazed at George with comical melancholy.
"Dat's so," assented the latter, with wonted acquiescence. "I 'members
hit well, suh, dat wuz when me and you wuz down in Gloucester tryin'
to git up spunk to co'te Miss Ailsy Mann. Dat's mo'n thirty years ago."
The Major reflected. "It cannot be thirty years!--thir--ty--years," he
mused.
"Yes, suh, an' better, too. 'Twuz befo' we fit de duil wid Jedge
Carrington. I know dat, 'cause dat's what we shoot him 'bout--'cause he
co'te Miss Ailsy an' cut we out."
"Damn your memory! Thirty years! I could dance all night then--every
night in the week--and now I can hardly mount my horse without
getting the thumps."
George Washington, affected by his reminiscences, declared that he
had heard one of the ladies saying, "just the other day," what "a fine
portly gentleman" he was.
The Major brightened.
"Did you hear that? George Washington, if you tell me a lie I'll set you
free!" It was his most terrible threat, used only on occasions of

exceptional provocation.
George vowed that no reward could induce him to be guilty of such an
enormity, and followed it up by so skilful an allusion to the progressing
youth of his master that the latter swore he was right, and that he could
dance better than he could at thirty, and to prove it executed, with
extraordinary agility for a man who rode at twenty stone, a pas seul
which made the floor rock and set the windows and ornaments to
rattling as if there had been an earthquake. Suddenly, with a loud
"Whew," he flung himself into an arm-chair, panting and perspiring.
"It's you, sir," he gasped--"you put me up to it."
"Nor, suh; tain me, Marse Nat--I's tellin' you de truf," asserted George,
moved to defend himself.
"You infernal old rascal, it is you," panted the Major, still mopping his
face--"you have been running riot so long you need regulation--I'll tell
you what I'll do--I'll marry and give you a mistress to manage you--yes,
sir, I'll get married right away. I know the very woman for you--she'll
make you walk chalk!"
For thirty years this had been his threat, so George was no more
alarmed than he was at the promise of being sold, or turned loose upon
the world as a free man. He therefore inquired solemnly,
"Marse Nat, le' me ax you