Fort Washington, an acquaintance
belonging to the capital came up, in conversation with a thin, scrawny,
hard-featured man, dressed, in black, and looking like a cross between a
decayed Yankee schoolmaster and a foreign Count gone into the hand-organ
business. As we exchanged salutations he stopped, made a step backward,
and astounded me by this introduction:

"'Col. Washington, my friend, Mr. Leslie--Mr. Leslie, Col. John A.
Washington, proprietor of Mount Vernon.'

"I do not suppose that there was any merit in it, any more than there
would have been in refusing to drink a nauseous dose; but, really, I
felt that I was fulfilling a stern duty (no pun intended) in turning my
back short upon the Colonel, and saying:

"'Much obliged to you, Mr. ----, but I have no desire whatever to know
Col. John A. Washington!'

"I will do the Colonel (though he did afterwards die a rebel as he
deserved) the justice to say that I do not think he cared much for the
cut. I noticed that his sallow face looked a shade nearer to green than
before, but he merely drew himself up and took no other notice of my
decidedly cavalier conduct. Not so, however, with some of the
passengers, who had been near enough to hear the words, and who seemed
to think that the memory of the great dead was insulted, instead of
honored, by this rebuff to the miserable offshoot who kept Mount Vernon
as a cross between a pig-stye and a Jew old-clo' shop. Some of them, I
suppose, were Virginians, and neighbors of 'the Colonel.' At all events,
I heard mutterings, and the ladies in my company (they were all ladies)
looked a little alarmed.

"Directly one of the F.F.V.'s, as I suppose them to have been, stepped
forward immediately in front of me, and said:

"'D--n it, sir, the man who insults a Washington must answer to _me_!'

"'Must he?' I said, not much scared, I think, but a little flustered,
and quite undecided whether to get into a row on the spot by striking
the last man.

"'He must!' replied the F.F.V., with another curse or two thrown in by
way of emphasis. 'You may be some cursed Yankee, peddling buttons, and
afraid to fight; but if not--'

"'He will have no occasion to fight,' said a voice coming through the
crowd from the side of the vessel. 'I will take that little job off his
hands. Eh, Leslie, is that you? They tell me you have been giving the
cut-direct to that mean humbug who calls himself John A. Washington.
Give me your hand, old boy; you ha