y.

His comrade of former days was as hot and as savage. "Be it so--with
what weapon, sir?" Washington said sternly.

"Not with small-swords, Colonel. We can beat you with them. You know
that from our old bouts. Pistols had better be the word."

"As you please, George Warrington--and God forgive you, George! God
pardon you, Harry! for bringing me into this quarrel," said the Colonel,
with a face full of sadness and gloom.

Harry hung his head, but George continued with perfect calmness: "I,
sir? It was not I who called names, who talked of a cane, who insulted a
gentleman in a public place before gentlemen of the army. It is not the
first time you have chosen to take me for a negro, and talked of the
whip for me."

The Colonel started back, turning very red, and as if struck by a sudden
remembrance.

"Great heavens, George! is it that boyish quarrel you are still
recalling?"

"Who made you the overseer of Castlewood?" said the boy, grinding his
teeth. "I am not your slave, George Washington, and I never will be. I
hated you then, and I hate you now. And you have insulted me, and I am a
gentleman, and so are you. Is that not enough?"

"Too much, only too much," said the Colonel, with a genuine grief on
his face, and at his heart. "Do you bear malice too, Harry? I had not
thought this of thee!"

"I stand by my brother," said Harry, turning away from the Colonel's
look, and grasping George's hand. The sadness on their adversary's face
did not depart. "Heaven be good to us! 'Tis all clear now," he muttered
to himself. "The time to write a few letters, and I am at your service,
Mr. Warrington," he said.

"You have your own pistols at your saddle. I did not ride out with
any; but will send Sady back for mine. That will give you time enough,
Colonel Washington?"

"Plenty of time, sir." And each gentleman made the other a low bow,
and, putting his arm in his brother's, George walked away. The Virginian
officer looked towards the two unlucky captains, who were by this time
helpless with liquor. Captain Benson, the master of the tavern, was
propping the hat of one of them over his head.

"It is not altogether their fault, Colonel," said my landlord, with a
grim look of humour. "Jack Firebrace and Tom Humbold of Spotsylvania was
here this morning, chanting horses with 'em. And Jack and Tom got 'em to
play cards; and they didn't win--the British Captains didn't. And Jack
and Tom challenged them to drink for the hono