Her household duties were many, and she was forced at once to alter her lifelong relation to domestic economics.  Hamilton’s salary was six hundred pieces of eight, and for a time the keeping of accounts and the plans for daily disposal of the small income furnished almost the only subjects of conversation between her husband and herself.  His duties kept him on horseback during all but the intolerable hours of the day, and until their new life had become a commonplace they were fortunate in seeing little of each other.

Alexander long since had upset his father’s purpose to defer the opening of his mind until the age of seven.  He had taught himself the rudiments of education by such ceaseless questioning of both his parents that they were glad to set him a daily task and keep him at it as long as possible.  In this new home he had few resources besides his little books and his mother, who gave him all her leisure.  There were no white playmates, and he was not allowed to go near the lagoon, lest the shark get him or he eat of forbidden fruit.  Just after his sixth birthday, however, several changes occurred in his life:  Peter Lytton sent him a pony, his father killed the shark and gave him a boat, and he made the acquaintance of the Rev. Hugh Knox.

This man, who was to play so important a part in the life of Alexander Hamilton, was himself a personality.  At this time but little over thirty, he had, some years since, come to the West Indies with a classical library and a determination to rescue the planters from that hell which awaits those who drowse through life in a clime where it is always summer when it is not simply and blazingly West Indian.  He soon threw the mantle of charity over the patient planters, and became the boon companion of many; but he made converts and was mightily proud of them.  His was the zeal of the converted.  When he arrived in the United States, in 1753, young, fresh from college, enthusiastic, and handsome, he found favour at once in the eyes of the Rev. Dr. Rogers of Middletown on the Delaware, to whom he had brought a letter of introduction.  Through the influence of this eminent divine, he obtained a school and many friends.  The big witty Irishman was a welcome guest at the popular tavern, and was not long establishing himself as the leader of its hilarities.  He was a peculiarly good mimic, and on Saturday nights his boon companions fell into the habit of demanding his impersonation of some character locally famous.  One night he essayed a reproduction of Dr. Rogers, then one of the most celebrated men of his cloth.  Knox rehearsed the sermon of the previous Sunday, not only with all the divine’s peculiarity of gesture and inflection, but almost word for word; for his memory was remarkable.  At the start his listeners applauded violently, then subsided into the respectful silence they were wont to accord Dr. Rogers; at the finish they stole out without a word.  As for Knox, he sat alone, overwhelmed