My conservatism and just slowness cut, however, no figure, since, as I tell you, with the moment I clapped eyes upon her, I changed to be her knight--her champion; and thereafter I matched even the torrid General in fire for her cause. I was in talk with the General when news reached me of Peg waiting in the parlor for a meeting. It was Jim who bore me word; he peered around the corner of the door and with rolling' eye as one who brings bad tidings, beckoned me into the hallway. “What is it?” I demanded impatiently. I should tell you, perhaps, that Jim was more than twenty years my senior, and nearing on to three score years and ten. This may explain that attitude of mentor, not to say protector, of my morals which it was his pleasure to hold towards me. “What is it? Speak up!” Jim shook his grizzled head, and his look was loaded of reproof. “See yere, Marse Major,” said Jim; “dish yere aint Tennessee where you-all kin do as you please. What you reckon now Marse Gen'ral would gwine say to sech cat-an'-fiddle doin's?” “And now what's wrong?” I inquired; humbly enough, for I was much beneath Jim's sway. “Marse Major, lemme ask you,” said Jim, and with that he fixed me with his old eye like an inquisitor; “lemme ask you: Does you-all send for to meet a young lady?” “Certainly not,” I replied. “Do you think I've come to Washington to meet young ladies?” This last indignantly. “How I know what you do?” retorted Jim, sullenly. “Ever see a hoss in a new parstur? Ever see how he r'ar an' pitch an' buck-jump an' kick up? How I know what you do?” “Get to the point,” I said, and I drew on a fierce expression, for I was running low of patience. “No use, Marse Major, for you to go dom'neerin' with Jim,” and the scoundrel shook his head admonishingly. “I'll fotch up at d' p'int fas' enough. I tells dese yere niggahs about dis hotel that if any one comes squanderin' 'round to see you-all, an' speshul, if any of them evil-minded women-folks comes 'round, to let me know.” “What do you mean with your evil-minded women-folks?” “That's all right, Marse Major; Jim aint heer'n d' Bible read for mighty likely sixty years an' not know of them evil-minded womenfolks. King Solomon, an' him d' wisest man, was mingled up in d' midst of a whole passel of'em. An' so, when a minute back one of d' house niggahs comes up to me an' lets on thar's a young lady in d' parlor who's waitin' for you, I allows I'll take a look, an' try an' rummage out what she wants. With that, I kinder loiters into d' parlor like I'm sent a urrent; an' sho! Marse Major, if thar don't sot a girl who's that beautiful she's plumb reedic'lous. “'Be you-all wantin' to meet d' Marse Major?' I says. “She say, 'Yes; I'm d' wife of his friend, Mr. Eaton.' “'Mr. Eaton,' I says, 'who lives down south of Nashville at Franklin Co't House?' “She say, 'Yes; I'm Mrs. Eaton.'