the meanest of New York’s political “bosses,”—­for two-thirds of the men selected were his followers.  The Convention was called for the 17th of June and it was rumoured that the Clintonians intended immediately to move an adjournment until the following year.  According to an act of Congress the ratification of only nine States was necessary to the adoption of the Constitution.  The others could come into the Union later if they chose, and there was a disposition in several States to watch the experiment before committing themselves.  Hamilton, who knew that such a policy, if pursued by the more important States, would result in civil war, was determined that New York should not behave in a manner which would ruin her in the present and disgrace her in history, and wrote on with increasing vigour, hoping to influence the minds of the oppositionists elected to the Convention as well as the people at large.  Even he had never written anything which had attracted so wide admiring and acrimonious attention.  The papers were read in all the cities of the Confederation, and in such hamlets as boasted a mail-bag.  When they reached England and France they were almost as keenly discussed.  That they steadily made converts, Hamilton had cause to know, for his correspondence was overwhelming.  Troup and General Schuyler attended to the greater part of it; but only himself could answer the frequent letters from leaders in the different states demanding advice.  He thought himself fortunate in segregating five hours of the twenty-four for sleep.  The excitement throughout the country was intense, and it is safe to say that nowhere and for months did conversation wander from the subject of politics and the new Constitution, for more than ten minutes at a time.  In New York Hamilton was the subject of constant and vicious attack, the Clintonians sparing no effort to discredit him with the masses.  New York City was nicknamed Hamiltonopolis and jingled in scurrilous rhymes.  In the midst of it all were two diversions:  the fourth of his children, and a letter which he discovered before General Schuyler or Troup had sorted his mail.  As the entire Schuyler family were now in his house, and his new son was piercingly discontented with his lot, he took refuge in his chambers in Garden Street, until Betsey was able to restore peace and happiness to his home.  The postman had orders to bring his mail-bag thither, and it was on the second morning of his exile that the perfume of violets caused him to make a hasty journey through the letters.

He found the spring sweetness coincidentally with a large square, flowingly superscribed.  He glanced at the clock.  His devoted assistants would not arrive for half an hour.  He broke the seal.  It was signed Eliza Capet Croix, and ran as follows:—­