of a hero. When he came over to Castlewood and taught us boys surveying,
to see him riding to hounds was as if he was charging an army. If he
fired a shot, I thought the bird must come down, and if be flung a net,
the largest fish in the river were sure to be in it. His words were
always few, but they were always wise; they were not idle, as our words
are, they were grave, sober, and strong, and ready on occasion to do
their duty. In spite of his antipathy to him, my brother respected and
admired the General as much as I did--that is to say, more than any
mortal man."

Mr. Washington was the first to leave the jovial party which were doing
so much honour to Madam Esmond's hospitality. Young George Esmond, who
had taken his mother's place when she left it, had been free with the
glass and with the tongue. He had said a score of things to his guest
which wounded and chafed the latter, and to which Mr. Washington could
give no reply. Angry beyond all endurance, he left the table at length,
and walked away through the open windows into the broad verandah or
porch which belonged to Castlewood as to all Virginian houses.

Here Madam Esmond caught sight of her friend's tall frame as it strode
up and down before the windows; and, the evening being warm, or her game
over, she gave up her cards to one of the other ladies, and joined her
good neighbour out of doors. He tried to compose his countenance as well
as he could: it was impossible that he should explain to his hostess why
and with whom he was angry.

"The gentlemen are long over their wine," she said; "gentlemen of the
army are always fond of it."

"If drinking makes good soldiers, some yonder are distinguishing
themselves greatly, madam," said Mr. Washington.

"And I dare say the General is at the head of his troops?"

"No doubt, no doubt," answered the Colonel, who always received this
lady's remarks, playful or serious, with a peculiar softness and
kindness. "But the General is the General, and it is not for me to make
remarks on his Excellency's doings at table or elsewhere. I think very
likely that military gentlemen born and bred at home are different from
us of the colonies. We have such a hot sun, that we need not wine to
fire our blood as they do. And drinking toasts seems a point of honour
with them. Talmadge hiccupped to me--I should say, whispered to me just
now, that an officer could no more refuse a toast than a challenge, and
he said that it was after