when their immortal energies were invoked to create a soul for a nation in embryo?  Morris reviewed the dead man’s almost unhuman gift for inspiring confidence, exerted from the moment he first showed his boyish face to the multitude; for triumphing to his many goals as if jagged ramparts had been grass under his feet.  He had been the brain of the American army in his boyhood; he had conceived an empire in his young twenties; he had poured his genius into a sickly infant, and set it, a young giant, on its legs, when he was long under twoscore.  Almost all things had come to him by intuition, for he had lived in advance of much knowledge.

He communicated these thoughts to Troup, who left the room with him, his head bent, his arms hanging listlessly.  “He might have come in some less human form,” added Morris, bitterly.  “This is the worst time of my life.  I am not ashamed to say I’ve cried my eyes out.”

“I have cried my heart out,” said Troup.

The funeral took place from the house of John Church, in Robinson Street, near the upper Park.  Express messengers had dashed out from New York the moment Hamilton breathed his last, and every city tolled its bells as it received the news.  People flocked into the streets, weeping and indignant to the point of fury.  Washington’s death had been followed by sadness and grief, but was unaccompanied by anger, and a loud desire for vengeance.  Moreover, Hamilton was still a young man.  Few knew of his feeble health; and that dauntless resourceful figure dwelt in the high light of the public imagination, ever ready to deliver the young country in its many times of peril.  His death was lamented as a national calamity.

On the day of the funeral, New York was black.  Every place of business was closed.  The world was in the windows, on the housetops, on the pavements of the streets through which the cortege was to pass:  Robinson, Beekman, Peal, and Broadway to Trinity Church.  Those who were to walk in the funeral procession waited, the Sixth Regiment, with the colours and music of the several corps, paraded, in Robinson Street, until the standard of the Cincinnati, shrouded in crepe, was waved before the open door of Mr. Church’s house.  The regiment immediately halted and rested on its reversed arms, until the bier had been carried from the house to the centre of the street, when the procession immediately formed.  This was the order of it:—­

  The Military Corps
  The Society of the Cincinnati
  Clergy of all Denominations
  The Body of Hamilton
  The General’s Horse
  The Family
  Physicians
  The Judges of the Supreme Court (in deep mourning)
  Mr. Gouverneur Morris in his carriage
  Gentlemen of the Bar and students at law (in deep mourning)
  Governor and Lieutenant-Governor of the State
  Mayor and Corporation of the City
  Members of Congress and Civil Officers of the United States
  The Minister, Consuls, and Residents of