Rose laughingly declared she would have to consult him herself, and when the Major told her to consult only her mirror, gave him a courtesy and wished he would teach some young men of her acquaintance to make such speeches. The old fellow vowed, however, that they were unteachable; that he would as soon expect to teach young moles. IV. It was not more than a half hour after this when George Washington came in and found the Major standing before the long mirror, turning around and holding his coat back from his plump sides so as to obtain a fair view of his ample dimensions. “George Washington,” said he. “Suh.” “I’m afraid I’m growing a little too stout.” George Washington walked around and looked at him with the critical gaze of a butcher appraising a fat ox. “Oh! nor, suh, you aint, not to say _too_ stout,” he finally decided as the result of this inspection, “you jis gittin’ sort o’ potely. Hit’s monsus becomin’ to you.” “Do you think so?” The Major was manifestly flattered. “I was apprehensive that I might be growing a trifle fat,”--he turned carefully around before the mirror,--“and from a fat old man and a scrawny old woman, Heaven deliver us, George Washington!” “Nor, suh, you ain’ got a ounce too much meat on you,” said George, reassuringly; “how much you weigh, Marse Nat, last time you was on de stilyards?” he inquired with wily interest. The Major faced him. “George Washington, the last time I weighed I tipped the beam at one hundred and forty-three pounds, and I had the waist of a girl.” He laid his fat hands 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.