An old slave named "George Washington," going out as second in a duel, and being told by his master, greatly to his dismay, that he must stand up to be shot at in the absence of his principal, comports himself much after the fashion of Bob Acres, and furnishes plenty of that "African humor" which is the unadulterated material of P'laski's Tunament.
am, you misapprehend the situation. He is no slave. I am the slave, not only of him but of three hundred more as arrogant and exacting as the Czar, and as lazy as the devil!"
Miss Jemima threw up her hands in astonishment, and the Major, who was on a favorite theme, proceeded:
"Why, madam, the very coat on my back belongs to that rascal George Washington, and I do not know when he may take a fancy to order me out of it. My soul is not my own. He drinks my whiskey, steals my tobacco, and takes my clothes before my face. As likely as not he will have on this very waistcoat before the week is out."
The Major stroked his well-filled velvet vest caressingly, as if he already felt the pangs of the approaching separation.
"Oh, dear! You amaze me," began Miss Jemima.
"Yes, madam, I should be amazed myself, except that I have stood it so long. Why, I had once an affair with an intimate and valued friend, Judge Carrington. You may have heard of him, a very distinguished man!