Now that he was old, he was petted and cared for. Whenever Washington made the rounds of his kennels and stables, he stopped at the paddock. Then the old war-horse would run neighing up to the fence, proud to be caressed by the hand of his master.
George Washington Parke Custis (Retold)
CARING FOR THE GUEST
Told by the Guest Himself
I had feasted my imagination, for several days, on the near prospect of a visit to Mount Vernon, the seat of Washington. No pilgrim ever approached Mecca with deeper enthusiasm.
The first evening I spent under the wing of his hospitality, we sat a full hour at table, by ourselves, without the least interruption after the family had retired.
I was extremely oppressed with a severe cold and excessive coughing, contracted from the exposure of a harsh winter journey. He pressed me to use some remedies, but I declined doing so.
As usual, soon after retiring, my cough increased.
When some time had elapsed, the door of my room was gently opened. And, on drawing back my bed-curtains, to my utter astonishment, I beheld Washington himself standing at my bedside with a bowl of hot tea in his hand.
Elkanah Watson (Condensed)