of his soldiers carried home, made him the most popular American of his day, and altho the most glittering prizes were not seldom held up before his eyes, he remained untroubled by ulterior ambition.  No thought that the Republic owed him more ever darkened his mind.  No man could have spoken to him of the “ingratitude of Republics,” without meeting from him a stern rebuke.  And so, content with the consciousness of a great duty nobly done, he was happy in the love of his fellow citizens.

Indeed, he may truly be said to have been in his old age, not only the most beloved, but also the happiest of Americans.  Many years he lived in the midst of posterity.  His task was finished, and this he wisely understood.  His deeds had been passed upon by the judgment of history, and irrevocably registered among the glories of his country and his age.  His generous heart envied no one, and wished every one well; and ill-will had long ceased to pursue him.  Beyond cavil his fame was secure, and he enjoyed it as that which he had honestly earned, with a genuine and ever fresh delight, openly avowed by the charming frankness of his nature.  He dearly loved to be esteemed and cherished by his fellow men, and what he valued most, his waning years brought him in ever increasing abundance.  Thus he was in truth a most happy man, and his days went down like an evening sun in a cloudless autumn sky.  And when now the American people, with that peculiar tenderness of affection which they have long borne him, lay him in his grave, the happy ending of his great life may soothe the pang of bereavement they feel in their hearts at the loss of the old hero who was so dear to them, and of whom they were and always will be so proud.  His memory will ever be bright to us all; his truest monument will be the greatness of the Republic he served so well; and his fame will never cease to be prized by a grateful country, as one of its most precious possessions.

ORATION OVER ALEXANDER HAMILTON[4]

BY GOUVERNEUR MORRIS

My Friends:—­If on this sad, this solemn occasion, I should endeavor to move your commiseration, it would be doing injustice to that sensibility which has been so generally and so justly manifested.  Far from attempting to excite your emotions, I must try to repress my own; and yet, I fear, that instead of the language of a public speaker, you will hear only the lamentations of a wailing friend.  But I will struggle with my bursting heart, to portray that heroic spirit, which has flown to the mansions of bliss.

Students of Columbia—­he was in the ardent pursuit of knowledge in your academic shades when the first sound of the American war called him to the field.  A young and unprotected volunteer, such was his zeal, and so brilliant his service, that we heard his name before we knew his person.  It seemed as if God had called him suddenly into existence, that he might assist to save a world!  The penetrating