carried Colonel Burr immediately left the Jersey shore for New York.

Hamilton was at once borne away tenderly in the arms of Pendleton, and his necessities ministered to by Dr. Hosack. He had, at this moment, just strength enough to say, "This is a mortal wound, doctor;" when he sank away, and became to all appearance lifeless. "My vision is indistinct," were his first words. Soon after recovering his sight, he happened to cast his eye upon the case of pistols, and observing the one he had used lying on the outside, he said:

"Take care of that pistol; it is undischarged, and still cocked; it may go off and do harm ;—Pendleton knows (attempt ing to turn his head towards him) that I did not intend to fire at him."

"Yes, I have already made Dr. Hosack acquainted with your determination as to that," replied Pendleton.

On approaching the shore, he said, "Let Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for; let the event be gradually broken to her; but give her hopes." His friend, Mr. His friend, Mr. Bayard, stood on the wharf in great agitation, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the bottom of the boat, he threw up his arms and burst into a flood of tears and lamentation. Hamilton alone appeared tranquil and composed. On being put to bed, a consultation of physicians was held, who united in the opinion that there was no chance of his recovery. General Key, the French consul, also had the goodness to invite the surgeons of the French frigates then in New York harbor, as they had had much experience in gun-shot wounds, to render their assistance. They immediately came, but their opinion was unanimous as to the hopelessness of the case. The ball had struck the second or third false rib, and fractured it about the middle; it then passed through the liver and the diaphragm, and as far as was subsequently ascertained, lodged in the first or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being considerably splintered, so that the spiculæ were perceptible to the touch of the finger.

The

The news of Hamilton's fall, and prob ably speedy death, by a duel with the vicepresident of the United States, paralyzed the whole nation, as the shocking intelligence sped itself over the country. In New York, especially, bulletins, hourly changed, kept the city in agitation. All the circumstances of the catastrophe were told, and re-told, at every corner. thrilling scenes that were passing at the bedside of the dying man, the consultation of the physicians, the arrival of the stricken family, Mrs. Hamilton's overwhelming sorrow, the resignation and calm dignity of the illustrious sufferer, his broken slumbers during the night, the piteous spectacle of the seven children entering together the awful apartment,-all these produced an impression on the public that can only be imagined.

At General Hamilton's request, Bishop Moore and Rev. Dr. Mason visited him at his bedside. To the former he said: "My dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate situation, and no doubt have been made acquainted with the circumstances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the communion at your hands. I hope you will not conceive there is any impropriety in my request. It has for some time past been the wish of my heart, and it was my intention to take an early opportunity of uniting myself to the church by the reception of that holy ordinance." Bishop Moore observed to him, that he must be very sensible of the delicate and trying situation in which, as a minister, he was then placed; that however desirous he might be to afford consolation to a fellow mortal in distress, still it was his duty as an ambassador of the gospel, to hold up the law of God as paramount to all other law, and that, therefore, he must unequivocally condemn the practice which had brought him to his present unhappy condition. Hamilton acknowledged the propriety of these sentiments, and added, "I have no ill-will against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed determination to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened." After some other religious conversation

incident to the occasion, he received the sacrament with great devotion, expressing strong confidence in divine mercy. In his interview with Dr. Mason, he exhibited the same spiritual conviction, and repeated the emphatic testimony he had given to Bishop Moore, against the barbarous custom of dueling.

The next day, Thursday, at eleven o'clock, being about thirty hours after receiving the fatal wound, Hamilton embraced his wife for the last time, then calmly composed himself to die, and expired without a shudder or a groan, in the prime of his manhood, being forty-seven years of age.

The death of this most illustrious statesman was universally deplored, as a national calamity second only to the death of Washington himself; and, indeed, on account of the tragical circumstances under which the great patriot was brought to his end, the excitement produced throughout the country was, if possible, more startling and profound than that which followed the announcement of Washington's decease. In the city of New York, the most imposing funeral ceremony ever witnessed in America revealed the unexampled grief that burdened the public mind. All business was suspended, the bells tolled in solemn requiem, public meetings of the various societies were held, the ships in the harbor hoisted their flags at half-mast, and sorrow was depicted on every countenance.

The indignation against Burr knew no bounds. His fixed determination to bring Hamilton within range of his pistol, feeling "sure of being able to kill him," caused his act to be branded as willful murder, and an indictment was duly found against him; but in a few days he fled, an outlaw and an outcast, and thus eluded justice. Burr's execrable heartlessness may be judged of, by the note written by him to Mr. Allston, his son-in-law, in which

he said: "General Hamilton died yesterday. The malignant federalists or tories, and the embittered Clintonians, unite in endeavoring to excite public sympathy in his favor and indignation against his antagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods are circulated with industry. The most illiberal means are practiced in order to produce excitement, and for the moment with effect."

One week before the time fixed upon for the duel, Hamilton prepared a letter to his wife, to be handed to her in case of his death. In this affecting epistle, he assures her that he had striven by all honorable means to avoid the meeting, and expects to fall in it; he entreats her forgiveness for the calamity his death would bring upon her, and conjures her to meet the blow in calm submission to providence.

Hamilton's widow, a woman of rare excellence and dignity, survived him some fifty years. Once only did she see her husband's murderer, the circumstances of this occasion being related as follows: In the year 1822, she was traveling from New York to Albany, on one of the boats plying the Hudson. The company had been summoned to dinner. When Mrs. Hamilton had almost reached her seat in the dining-saloon, on raising her eyes she perceived Aaron Burr standing directly opposite to her, with only the narrow width of the table between them. The shock was too much for her system, she uttered a loud scream, fell, and was carried in a fainting state from the apartment. As soon as she recovered, she insisted on being set on shore at the first landing-place, refusing to journey further in the same vessel with Burr. It is said, that, after the removal of Mrs. Hamilton from the dining saloon, Burr deliberately sat down and ate a hearty dinner with the utmost composure. This story, however, wears an air of improbability.

near the doctor, who counted the seconds from the chronometer, thus enabling Dr. Bowditch to mark down with a pencil the time when the first impression was made on the sun's limb, without taking his eye from the telescope till four or five seconds had elapsed, and the eclipse had sensibly increased. As the eclipse advanced, there did not appear to be so great a diminution of the light as was generally expected, and it was not until the sun was nearly covered, that the darkness was very sensible. At thirty-seven minutes and thirty seconds past eleven o'olock, the sun's surface was wholly covered. The last ray of light from the sun's limb disappeared instantaneously. The whole of the moon was then seen surrounded by a luminous appearance of considerable extent, such as had generally been noticed in total eclipses of the sun. This luminosity, with a twilight brightness round the horizon, prevented the darkness from being any greater than it was, during the time that the sun's surface remained wholly covered. The degree of light can be estimated, on such an occasion, by the number of stars visible to the naked eye; those noticed at this time were Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon, the three bright stars in the belt of Orion,

TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE IN 1806.

and the star a in its shoulder. Venus and Mars were also visible. A candle had been provided to assist in reading off the seconds from the chronometer, but, though it was not found necessary in the garden where these observations were made, it would have been in the house adjoining.

As the time drew near for witnessing the end of the total darkness, there was noticed a visible increase of light in the atmosphere for about two seconds before any part of the sun's limb was visible in the telescope; but at thirty-two minutes and eighteen seconds past eleven o'clock-the time noted as that of the end of total darkness, the light burst forth with great splendor. After this, the light appeared to increase much faster than it had decreased, and in a short time it was as light as in a common cloudy day, the degree of light continually increasing, of course, as the eclipse drew to a close.

The impressions made by such an exhibition, upon different minds, are not the least interesting points, in a narrative like this. Mr. Cooper, the novelist, though but a youth at the time of the eclipse, was so enthusiastic an observer of the spectacle, that, twenty-five years after the event, he wrote a minute account of what he saw and how he felt during the wonderful occurrence. Mr. Cooper states that, as he and the other spectators in his company first discerned, through their glasses, the oval form of the moon darkening the sun's light, an exclamation of delight, almost triumphant, burst involuntarily from the lips of all. Gradually, and at first quite imperceptibly to the sight, that dark and mysterious sphere gained upon the orb of light. As yet (continues Mr. Cooper), there was no change perceptible in the sunlight falling upon lake and mountain; the familiar scene wore its usual smiling aspect, bright and glowing as on other days of June. The people, however, were now crowding into the streets, their usual labors were abandoned -forgotten for the moment,-and all faces were turned upward. Gradually a fifth, and even a fourth, of the sun's disc became obscured, and still the unguarded eye could not endure the flood of light. The noonday heat, however, began to lessen, and something of the coolness of early morning returned to the valley. Soon, a somber, yellowish, unnatural color

change had taken place. The trees on the distant heights had lost their verdure and their airy character, and were taking the outline of dark pictures graven upon an unfamiliar sky.

The startling effect of such an abnormal transition in nature, upon animals and

PROGRESS OF THE SOLAR ECLIPSE.

fowls, and even upon human beings, has sometimes been described in such a manner as to excite well-grounded suspicions of exaggeration, in the minds of those persons to whom has been denied the opportunity of personal observation. But Mr. Cooper states that "all living creatures seemed thrown into a state of agitation. The birds were fluttering to and fro, in great excitement; they seemed to mistrust that this was not the gradual approach of evening, and were undecided in their movements. Even the dogs became uneasy, and drew closer to their masters. The eager, joyous look of interest and curiosity, which earlier in the morning had appeared in almost every countenance, was now changed to an expression of wonder, or anxiety, or thoughtfulness, according to the individual character. Every house now gave up its tenants. As the light failed more and more with every passing second, the children came flocking about their mothers in terror. The women themselves were looking about uneasily for their husbands. The men were very generally silent and grave. Many a laborer left his employment to be near his wife and children, as the dimness and darkness

clouded days, less rare in America than in Europe. The steadily-waning light, the gradual approach of darkness, became the more impressive as we observed this absolutely transparent state of the heavens. The birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier had been fluttering about in great agitation, seemed now to be convinced that night was at hand. Swallows were dimly seen dropping into the chimneys, the martins returned to their little boxes, the pigeons flew home to their dove-cots, and through the open door of a small barn we saw the fowls going to roost. The usual flood of sunlight had now become so much weakened, that we could look upward long, and steadily, without the least pain. The sun appeared like a young moon of three or four days old, though of course with a larger and more brilliant crescent. One after another, the stars came into view, more rapidly than in the evening twilight, until perhaps fifty stars appeared to us, in a broad dark zone of the heavens, crowning the pines on the western mountain. This wonderful vision of the stars, during the noontide hours of day, filled the spirit with singular sensations. Suddenly, one of my brothers shouted aloud, "The moon!" Quicker than thought, my eye turned eastward again, and there floated the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree that was almost fearful. The spherical form, the character, the dignity, the substance of the planet, were clearly revealed, as I have never beheld them before, or since. It looked grand, dark, majestic, and mighty. Darkness like that of early night now fell upon the village. A few cows, believing that night had overtaken them, were coming homeward from the wild open pastures; the dew was falling perceptibly, and the thermometer must have fallen many degrees from the great heat of the morning. The lake, the hills, and the buildings of the little town, were swallowed up in the darkness. All labor had ceased. The plaintive note of the whippowil was distinctly heard. A bat came flitting about our heads. Many stars