Finally, Weems, upon one of his book-selling excursions, which simply
meant disposing of his own writings, came through her neighborhood,
and with the gravity of age, left verbally his own biography with Mrs.
McJoy, a neighbor; this made him, as he phrased it, General
Washington's preacher. He was never after assailed as a lying author:
but whenever his narrative was opposed to her memory, she had the
excuse for him, that his informant had deceived him.
To have seen General Washington, even without having held the holy
office of his preacher, sanctified in her estimation any and every
one. She had seen him, and it was the especial glory of her life. Yes,
she had seen him, and remembered minutely his eyes, his hair, his
mouth and his hands--and even his black horse, with a star in his
face, and his one white foot and long, sweeping tail. So often did I
listen to the story, that in after boyhood I came to believe I had
seen him also, though his death occurred twenty days before I was
born. My dear, good mother has often told me that but for an attack of
ague, which kept the venerable lady from our home for a month or more,
I should have been honored with bearing the old hero's name through
life.
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