the brain fails in its part, or the character is gradually undermined by lying and dishonour, that the inevitable sequence is some act which arouses the indignation of society or jerks down the iron fist of the law.  When Burr took to the slope he slid with few haltings.  In his long life of plottings and failures, from his sympathy with the Conway Cabal to his desperate old age, there were no depths of blackguardism that he did not touch.  Whether Madame Jumel spoke the truth or not to Hamilton on that night of their last interview, it was entirely in keeping with his life and character that he should kill for hire.

On the Fourth of July, the Society of the Cincinnati gave its annual dinner.  This society, then the most distinguished in the Union, and membered by men who had fought in the War of Independence, had, upon the death of Washington, their first President, elected Hamilton to the vacant office.  He presided at this banquet, and never had appeared nor felt happier.  Not only did that peculiar exaltation which precedes certain death possess him, as it possesses all men of mettle and brain in a like condition, but the philosophy which had been born in him and ruled his imagination through life had shrugged its shoulders and accepted the inevitable.  Hamilton knew that his death warrant had been signed above, and he no longer experienced a regret, although he had often felt depressed and martyred when obliged to go to the courts of Albany and leave his family behind him.  He had lost interest in his body; his spirit, ever, by far, the strongest and the dominant part of him, seemed already struggling for its freedom, arrogant and blithe as it approached its final triumph.  There is nothing in all life so selfish as death; and the colossal ego which genius breeds or is bred out of, isolated Hamilton even more completely than imminent death isolates most men.  The while he gave every moment he could spare to planning the future comfort and welfare of his family, he felt as if he had already bade them farewell, and wondered when and how he should meet them again.

At this gathering he was so gay and sportive that he infected the great company, and it was the most hilarious banquet in the society’s history.  The old warriors sighed, and wondered at his eternal youth.  When he sprang upon the table and sang his old camp-song, “The Drum,” he looked the boy they remembered at Valley Forge and Morristown.  There was only one member of the company who was unelectrified by the gay abandon of the evening, and his sombre appearance was so marked in contrast that it was widely commented on afterward.  Burr frequently leaned forward and stared at Hamilton in amazement.  As the hilarity waxed, his taciturnity deepened, and he finally withdrew.

The secret was well kept.  Few knew of the projected meeting, and none suspected it, although Burr’s pistol practice aroused some curiosity.  He had been a principal in a number of duels, and killed no one.  But he was known to have more than one bitter score to pay, for this last campaign had exceeded every other in heat and fury.  So many duels had studded it, and so many more impended, that the thinking men of the community were roused to a deep disapproval of the custom.  The excitement and horror over the sacrifice of Hamilton, full-blew this sentiment.