ibly not, sir; possibly not," returned the colonel, hastily. "I
know the new ideas are prohibitive, and some other blank thing, but
you're safe here from your constituents, and by gad, sir, I shan't
force you to take it! It's MY custom, Hathaway--an old one--played
out, perhaps, like all the others, but a custom nevertheless, and I'm
only surprised that George, who knows it, should have forgotten it."

"Fack is, Marse Harry," said George, with feverish apology, "it bin
gone 'scaped my mind dis mo'nin' in de prerogation ob business, but I'm
goin' now, shuah!" and he disappeared.

"A good boy, sir, but beginning to be contaminated. Brought him here
from Nashville over ten years ago. Eight years ago they proved to him
that he was no longer a slave, and made him d--d unhappy until I
promised him it should make no difference to him and he could stay. I
had to send for his wife and child--of course, a dead loss of eighteen
hundred dollars when they set foot in the State--but I'm blanked if he
isn't just as miserable with them here, for he has to take two hours in
the morning and three in the afternoon every day to be with 'em. I
tried to get him to take his family to the mines and make his fortune,
like those fellows they call bankers and operators and stockbrokers
nowadays; or to go to Oregon where they'll make him some kind of a
mayor or sheriff--but he won't. He collects my rents on some little
property I have left, and pays my bills, sir, and, if this blank
civilization would only leave him alone, he'd be a good enough boy."

Paul couldn't help thinking that the rents George collected were
somewhat inconsistent with those he was evidently mending when he
arrived, but at that moment the jingle of glasses was heard in the
sitting-room, and the old negro reappeared at the door. Drawing
himself up with ceremonious courtesy, he addressed Paul. "Wo'd yo'
mind, sah, taking a glance at de wine for yo' choice?" Paul rose, and
followed him into the sitting-room, when George carefully closed the
door. To his surprise Hathaway beheld a tray with two glasses of
whiskey and bitters, but no wine. "Skuse me, sah," said the old man
with dignified apology, "but de Kernel won't have any but de best
champagne for hono'ble gemmen like yo'self, and I'se despaired to say
it can't be got in de house or de subburbs. De best champagne dat we
gives visitors is de Widder Glencoe. Wo'd yo' mind, sah, for de sake
o' not 'xcitin' de Kern