The Major sat in a seat near
one of the doors. He had dined pretty heavily, the day was
hot and the Major was sleepy. He tipped back a little in
his chair, his head fell back between his shoulders and his
mouth opened, with his nose pointed toward the zenith. Just
then Spooner came in. As he passed by the Major, the temptation
was irresistible. He seized the venerable nose of the old
patriarch between his thumb and finger, and gave it a vigorous
twist. The Major was awakened and sprang to his feet, and
in a moment realized what had happened. He was, as may be
well supposed, intensely indignant. No Major in the militia
could submit to such an insult. He seized his chair and hurled
it at the head of the offender, but missed, and the bystanders
interposed before he was able to inflict the deserved punishment.
The Major lived to a good old age. His mental faculties
became somewhat impaired before he died. He had great respect
for his excellent son-in-law, Colonel Wetherell, who was on
Governor Andrew's staff during the War, and thought that anything
which ought to be accomplished could be accomplished by the
influence of the Colonel.
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