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 one thing--you ain' thinkin' 'bout givin' me
that ole one for