There was an interval of two weeks between the message and the meeting.  This was required by Hamilton to finish some important law business.  When he went to White Plains to try causes, he was in the habit of staying at a friend’s house.  The last time he visited there, a few days before his death, he said, upon leaving, “I shall probably never come here again.”  During this period he invited Col.  Wm. Smith, and his wife, who was the only daughter of John Adams, to dine with him.  Some rare old Madeira which had been given to him was produced on this occasion, and it was afterwards thought that it was his intention by this slight act to express his desire to bury all personal differences between Mr. Adams and himself.  These, and various other little incidents, show that he felt his death to be certain; yet all his business in court and out was marked by his ordinary clearness and ability, all his intercourse with his family and friends by his usual sweetness and cheerfulness of disposition.

On the Fourth of July, Hamilton and Burr met at the annual banquet of the Society of Cincinnati.  Hamilton presided.  No one was afterwards able to remember that his manner gave any indication of the dreadful event which was so near at hand.  He joined freely in the conversation and badinage of such occasions, and towards the close of the feast sang a song,—­the only one he knew,—­the ballad of the Drum.  But many remembered that Burr was silent and moody.  He did not look towards Hamilton until he began to sing, when he fixed his eyes upon him and gazed intently at him until the song was ended.

Hamilton was living at the Grange, his country-seat, near Manhattanville.  The place is still unchanged.  His office was in a small house on Cedar Street, where he likewise found lodgings when necessary.  The night previous to the duel was passed there.  We have been told by an aged citizen of New York, that Hamilton was seen long after midnight walking to and fro in front of the house.

During these last hours both parties wrote a few farewell lines.  In no act of their lives does the difference in the characters of Hamilton and Burr show itself so distinctly as in these parting letters.  Hamilton was oppressed by the difficulties and responsibilities of his situation.  His duty to his creditors and his family forbade him rashly to expose a life which was so valuable to them; his duty to his country forbade him to leave so evil an example; he was not conscious of ill-will towards Col.  Burr; and his nature revolted at the thought of destroying human life in a private quarrel.  These thoughts, and the considerations of pride and ambition which nevertheless controlled him, are beautifully expressed in language which is full of pathos and manly dignity.  He had made his will the day before.  He was distressed lest his estate should prove insufficient to pay his debts, and, after committing their mother to the filial protection of his children, he besought them, as his last request,