On Saturday, Hamilton gave a dinner at the Grange, and a guest was one of Washington’s first aides, Colonel Trumbull.  As he was leaving, Hamilton took him aside and said, with an emphasis which impressed Trumbull even at the moment:  “You are going to Boston.  You will see the principal men there.  Tell them from me, as my request, for God’s sake to cease these conversations and threatings about a separation of the Union.  It must hang together as long as it can be made to.  If this Union were to be broken, it would break my heart.”

The following day preceded the duel.  Hamilton attended an entertainment given by Oliver Wolcott, whose fortunes he had made, raising the capital of a business that could be presided over by no one so well as a former Secretary of the Treasury.  It was a large reception, and he met many of his old friends.  Lady Kitty Duer, widowed, but pleasantly circumstanced, was there, and Kitty Livingston, once more bearing her old name in a second marriage.  Bitter as the feeling between her house and Hamilton still was, she had declared long since that she would not cut him again; and although they never met in private, they often retired to a secluded corner at gatherings and talked for an hour.  His first reason for attending this reception was to shake her hand as they parted.  Madame Jumel was there, paling the loveliness of even the young daughters of Mrs. Jay and Lady Kitty Duer.  Those who did not mob about Hamilton surrounded her, and although her cheek was without colour, she looked serene and scornful.

After the reception Hamilton spent an hour with Troup.  This oldest of his friends, and Angelica, were the only people whose suspicion he feared.  Troup was quite capable of wringing Burr’s neck, and his daughter of taking some other desperate measure.  But it was long now since he had given Angelica reason for anxiety, and she had ceased to watch him; and to-day, Troup, whom he had avoided hitherto, was treated to such a flow of spirits that he not only suspected nothing, but allowed himself to hope that Hamilton’s health was mending.  Hamilton dared not even hold his hand longer than usual at parting, although he longed to embrace him.

That night, in the late seclusion of his library, Hamilton wrote two letters to his wife, in one of which he recommended Mrs. Mitchell to her care; then the following to Sedgwick, still a close friend, and probably the most influential man in New England:—­

     NEW YORK, July 10th, 1804.

MY DEAR SIR:  I have received two letters from you since we last saw each other—­that of the latest date being the twenty-fourth of May.  I have had on hand for some time a long letter to you, explaining my view of the course and tendency of our politics, and my intentions as to my own future conduct.  But my plan embraced so large a range, that, owing to much avocation, some indifferent health, and a growing distaste for politics, the letter is still considerably