About three o'clock in the morning he awoke with a chill, feeling very unwell. Still, he would not allow his wife to get up, fearing that she might take cold. A servant came in to build a fire, when he sent for Mr. Rawlins, an overseer, to bleed him, which, at that time, was a method of treatment universally adopted. The overseer was accustomed to bleed negroes, but he hesitated to practise on Washington.
"I would not be bled; you need more strength instead of less," interposed his wife, but Washington had confidence in the method. "Don't be afraid," he said to the overseer; "make the orifice large enough."
But he grew worse rapidly, and early in the morning Dr. Craik was sent for. Washington said to Mr. Lear, his private secretary:
"I cannot last long. I feel that I am going. I believed from the first that the attack would prove fatal."
"I hope not," answered Mr. Lear, rather surprised by these words. "The doctor will give you relief, I trust, when he arrives."
"Do you arrange and record all my military letters and papers; arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than any one else," Washington continued.
"That I will do," replied Mr. Lear; "but I hope you will live many years yet."
"Do you think of anything else it is essential for me to do? for I am confident that I shall continue but a very short time with you," continued Washington.
"I can think of nothing," answered Mr. Lear, and then repeated his opinion that he was not so near the end.