president in the grounds of the
White House. Nor could we understand what followed. We were
summoned in to supper. Our mother was there--a great event in
those days--and toasts were drunk and our father proposed one to
the general's health. This Reuben thought was an open signal of
peace, and turned upon me his great round eyes in surprise; but I,
who was old enough to notice that this toast was not responded to
and that the general did not even touch his lips to the glass he
had lifted in compliment to our mother, who had lifted hers, felt
that there was something terrifying rather than reassuring in this
attempt at good fellowship.

Though unable to reason over it at the time, I have often done so
since, and my father's attitude and look as he faced this strange
guest has dwelt so persistently in my memory that scarcely a year
passes without the scene coming up in my dreams with its accompanying
emotions of fear and perplexity. For--perhaps you know the story--that
hour was the general's last. He died before leaving the house;
died in that same dark library concerning which you have asked so
many questions.

"'I remember the circumstances well, how well down to each and every
detail. Our mother had gone back to her room, and the general and
my father, who did not linger over their wine--why should they,
when the general would not drink?--had withdrawn to the library at
the suggestion of the general, whose last words are yet lingering
in my ears.

"'The time has come for our little talk,' said he. 'Your reception
augurs--'

"'You do not look well,' my father here broke in, in what seemed an
unnaturally loud voice. 'Come and sit down--'

"'Here the door closed.

"'We had hung about this door, curious children that we were, in
hopes of catching a glimpse of the queer new settle which had been
put into place that day. But we scampered away at this, and were
playing in and out of the halls when the library door again opened
and my father came out.

"'Where's Samba?' he cried. 'Tell him to carry a glass of wine in
to the general. I do not like his looks. I am going upstairs for
some medicine.' This he whispered in choked tones as he set foot
on the stairs. Why I remember it I do not know, for Reuben, who
was standing where he could look into the library when our father
came out and saw the settle and the general sitting at one end of
it, was chattering about it in my ear at the very moment our fat