of constant remark; and her admiration for Burr was not concealed. On these facts is based the report of her seduction. We think, if permitted to digress from our narrative, that the suspicion of this lady's dishonor by Burr rests on very slight proofs. The beauty and accomplishments of an indiscreet girl of fourteen, when connected with the reputation of her lover for gallantry, are not enough to authorize a conclusion, that chastity has been violated. But so far as we discover, these are alone the grounds of the accusation. To admit such a result as necessarily arising from the intercourse of the parties, merely because the lady was youthful and engaging, and Burr an unprincipled flatterer, would be to admit that the restraints society has imposed upon licentiousness, have no effect upon an ambitious man, anxious for the admiration of the world; and that Miss Moncriff herself was the perfection of weakness, credulity and passion. Again, the continued confidence of Putnam in Burr, after this period dissipates the feeble presumption of his guilt. Such an occurrence could not have been concealed, if true, and the generous soldier who could lay his hand on his sword and refuse, with an oath, to obey the commands of Washington, to retain this lady a prisoner, would not have extended his friendship to the man, violating thus, the rights of his hospitable mansion.

Burr continued to serve in the army as an aid to Putnam, until 1777, when he received the commission of lieut. colonel in the regiment of Col. Malcolm. In this position he continued until 1779, when forced, on account of his shattered constitution to resign. In 1782, Burr was admitted to the bar at Albany; and in 1784, married Theodosia Prevost, the widow of Col. Prevost, of the British army. His connection with this lady was of a most romantic and affectionate character. She was accomplished and intelligent; and Burr's affection as exhibited, both in his treatment of her, and of her children by the former marriage, was ardent and highly creditable to his heart. Soon after his marriage, Burr removed to the city of New-York, and in 1789, was appointed Attorney General. From 1785 to 1788, he participated little in political affairs, being engaged honorably and prosperously in his profession. In 1791, he was elected to the Senate of the United States; and in 1792, nominated and confirmed as Judge of the Supreme Court of the State of New-York. This latter office he declined; and his ser

vices as Senator terminated in 1797. While in the Senate. he was distinguished for industry and efficiency in the discharge of his duties. In 1794, the democratic party having insisted upon the recall of Governeur Morris from France, on account of his being supposed to discountenance the revolution in that country, a committee, on which were Madison and Monroe, pressed upon Washington the nomination of Burr. This the President more than once declined. In 1800, Burr was selected as a candidate for the Vice Presidency, and in that year received from the republican party, a tie vote with Jefferson. The election going into the House of Representatives, parties divided their votes between the republican candidates: and after thirty-six ballotings, Jefferson was declared the President. This event severed all the political and family ties previously uniting Burr and Jefferson. To the year 1804 Burr was engaged in stormy political conflicts, from which resulted his duel with Hamilton, in July of that year. In 1805, Burr exhibited himself in his last public attitude while head of the Senate of the United States, on the trial of Judge Chase. On this occasion, he presided with a dignity and impartiality, honorable to himself, and highly creditable to the distinguished occasion. From this period, he travelled over the Western country employed in schemes and negotiations which produced his arrest, trial and acquittal on the charge of treason, in 1807. In 1808, he sailed for England, where he suffered the extremes of poverty and insult.

But, amidst this poverty and insult, his cheerfulness and patience seem never to have deserted him. The conduct of the government agents was disgraceful to the stations they occupied. His want of the necessaries of life was sufficient to have driven many proud souls to the extremes of rash despair but Burr remained unmoved. He writes his journal in the same playful style, while recording his daily rambles to barter the trifles gathered for Theodosia and her child, for a few pounds of coffee and sugar, as when detailing the most brilliant conversationes with the elite of Paris: when describing the classic erudition of Bentley, as when building his miserable fire on his cold and desolate hearth. If Burr was a bad man, he was surely the most resigned, patient bad man, in affliction, whose history we have ever read. There are few, if any, who can imitate such conduct, and feel as they look and act. The heart of the bad man is seen in his

face, heard in all his sentiments, and especially in affliction, Like the ocean, the surface cannot be calm and unruffled, when the deep workings of its currents toss and heave to and fro. In June, 1812, he returned to New-York, and practised law until the 14th September, 1836, when, in his eighty-first year, he was freed from the trials of life.

In the meantime, in addition to his political troubles, he had suffered many domestic afflictions. His wife, whom he unquestionably loved tenderly, died in 1794; and, in 1813, the beautiful and graceful Theodosia, his daughter, who had married Joseph Alston of South-Carolina, perished under circumstances to render death more terrible.

It is but a just digression to stop, and pay a tribute to the intelligence, virtue and amiable character of this interesting lady. She received from nature, a form and features of the utmost beauty and grace. Her mind was of a superior order, and improved and embellished by every species of knowledge and accomplishment. Her parent made her education much of the business of life. Believing that female instruction partook too little of the masculine character, he sought to educate Theodosia as if destined to some manly employment. Latin, French, Algebra, Mathematics, Philosophy and Politics, were her studies; and the ordinary education of females of her day, music, dancing and drawing, but subjects of her leisure employment. Her case is a striking example of the utility of the course of education she received. So far from exhibiting the objection of a literary lady, neglecting the great duties of her station, as the mother of her household, and impaired in the more soft and delicate qualities of the sex, she presents herself, in her history, with a mind highly and beneficially cultivated by what are termed the harsher studies; her sympathies softened, and rendered still more sensitive, by their influence. Her case was, truly, the case of a most virtuous and intelligent female mind, quickened to the intensest virtue and knowledge. No child ever leaned more upon a father: none was ever more affectionate and kind. Her piety clung around her father, with an embrace not to be shaken except by the whirlwind which shook the parent trunk. A continued disease preyed upon her system when he was miserable,—a constant sunshine lit up her life when he was happy. The insults which he received in Europe, from those whose stations should have, irrespective of personal feeling, insured their magnanimity, affected her

mind intensely. She saw, and detailed in burning terms, the infidelity of a friendship, induced by interest; and the generous friendship of an insulted, virtuous mind, was never more piously expressed, than in the following letter which she wrote to Mr. Gallatin, on hearing that her father had, by the most shameful equivocation, been refused a passport in Europe, and prevented by every means from returning to his country:

"Though convinced," she writes to Mr. Gallatin, "of your firmness, still, with the utmost diffidence, I venture to address you on a subject which it is almost dangerous to mention, and which, in itself, affords me no claim to your attention. Yet, trusting that you will not withhold an opinion deeply interesting to me, and which your present station enables you to form with peculiar correctness, I venture to inquire whether you suppose that my father's return to this country would be productive of ill consequences to him, or draw on him further prosecution from any branch of the government?

Recollect what are my incitements. Recollect that I have seen my father dashed from the high rank he held in the minds of his countrymen, imprisoned, and forced into exile. Must he ever remain thus excommunicated from the participation of domestic enjoyments, and the privileges of a citizen: aloof from his accustomed sphere, and singled out as a mark for the shafts of calumny? Why should he be thus persecuted, and held up to execration? What benefit to the country can possibly accrue from the continuation of this system? Surely, it must be evident to the worst enemies of my father, that no man, situated as he will be, could obtain any undue influence, even supposing him desirous of it.”

Portions of the subjoined letters exhibit at once her deep affection for her son, and her tenderness for her parent. On the 12th July, 1812, she writes:

"A few miserable days past, my dear father, and your late letters would have gladdened my soul; and even now I rejoice at their contents, as much as it is possible for me to rejoice at any thing; but there is no more joy for me; and the world is a blank. I have lost my boy. My child is gone forever. He expired on the 30th June."

On the 12th August, she writes:

። Alas, my dear father, I do live, but how does it happen? Of what am I formed that I live, and why? Of what service can I be in this world, either to you or any one else, with a body reduced to premature old age, and a mind enfeebled and bewildered? Yet, since it is my lot to live, I will endeavor to fulfil my part, and exert myself to my utmost, though this life must henceforth be to me a bed of thorns. Whichever way I turn, the same anguish still assails me. You talk of consolation,-ah! you know not what you have lost." "I have been reading your letter over again. I am not insensible to your af

fection, nor quite unworthy of it, though I can offer you nothing in return but the love of a broken, deadened heart, still desirous of promoting your happiness, if possible. God bless you."

The sad narrative of a few more days allotted her, is this: Her health continuing to decline, it was resolved that she should join her father in New-York. On the 30th December, 1812, she sailed from Charleston in the privateer Patriot, a pilot-boat built schooner, commanded by Capt. Overstocks. She never arrived, and conjectures of various kinds continued for many years to be indulged with respect to her fate. It was at one time supposed she had been captured: but at length opinion settled down in the belief of her loss at sea. Late years revealed the truth. In 18-, a sailor died at Mobile, in Alabama. On his death-bed he disclosed, that a portion of the crew of the Patriot mutinied, and that all who refused to second the scheme, including the officers and passengers, had been murdered. That himself and another, who had died at New-Orleans, were the survivors of that crew. That the beautiful and noble-minded Theodosia had been compelled to walk the plank, after a long contest as to her fate. Innocent and beautiful as a dove, she floated awhile over the troubled ocean of existence; and meekly resigned herself to death, the repose of her troubled mind.

From the narrative of Burr's life, arise various subjects for contemplation. Remote from the times in which he lived; disconnected from his contemporaries; unaffected by partisan associations, we will cast our eyes over the events of his life, and record what, in strict justice, should be condemned or approved.

From among the varied incidents of Burr's life, certain transactions stand out in bold outline: and upon these have rested the eyes of men, who have considered his character. These are, his military services, his political connexions, his contest with Jefferson, his duel with Hamilton, and his trial for treason. These we propose to review in the order stated.

The military capacity of Burr was of the highest order. He possessed an ardent temperament, which is the foundation of courage. His promptness enabled him to take advantage of circumstances, which other men might never have seen. With him, to see was to act. A species of quick energy distinguished him, which is the very characteristic of the successful General. This sometimes carried him into danger, often to victory; sometimes the cause of success, sometimes