The stranger then called Bernard by name, saying that he had seen him play in Philadelphia, and asked him to accompany him to his house and rest, at the same time pointing out a mansion on a distant hill.  Not till then did Bernard realize with whom he was speaking.

“Mt.  Vernon!” he exclaimed.  “Have I the honor of addressing General Washington?”

With a smile Washington extended his hand and said:  “An odd sort of introduction, Mr. Bernard; but I am pleased to find that you can play so active a part in private and without a prompter.”

Then they rode up to the Mansion House and had a pleasant chat[12].

[12] This anecdote is accepted by Mr. Lodge in his life of Washington, but doubt is cast upon it by another historian.  All that can be said is that there is nothing to disprove it and that it is not inherently improbable.

Upon his retirement from the presidency our Farmer had told Oliver Wolcott that he probably would never again go twenty miles from his own vine and fig tree, but the troubles with France resulted in a quasi-war and he was once more called from retirement to head an army, most of which was never raised.  He accepted the appointment with the understanding that he was not to be called into the field unless his presence should be indispensable, but he found that he must give much of his time to the matter and be often from home, while a quarrel between his friends Knox and Hamilton over second place joined with Republican hostility to war measures to add a touch of bitterness to the work.  Happily war was avoided and, though an adjustment of the international difficulties was not reached until 1800, Washington was able to spend most of the last months of his life at Mount Vernon comparatively undisturbed.

Yet things were not as once they were.  Mrs. Washington had aged greatly and was now a semi-invalid often confined to her bed.  The Farmer himself came of short-lived stock and realized that his pilgrimage would not be greatly prolonged.  Twice during the year he was seriously ill, and in September was laid up for more than a week.  His brother Charles died and in acknowledging the sad news he wrote: 

“I was the first, and am, now, the last of my father’s children by the second marriage, who remain.

“When I shall be called upon to follow them is known only to the Giver of Life.  When the summons comes, I shall endeavor to obey it with good grace.”

And yet there were gleams of joy and gladness.  “About candlelight” on his birthday in 1799 Nelly Custis and his nephew, Lawrence Lewis, were wedded.  The bride wished him to wear his gorgeous new uniform, but when he came down to give her away he wore the old Continental buff and blue and no doubt all loved him better so.  Often thereafter the pair were at Mount Vernon and there on November twenty-seventh a little daughter came as the first pledge of their affection.  As always there was much company.