His unsuspecting confidence in professions, which he believed to be sincere, led him to trust too much to the undeserving.  This exposed him to misrepresentation.  He felt himself obliged to resign.  The care of a rising family, and the narrowness of his fortune, made it a duty to return to his profession for their support.  But tho he was compelled to abandon public life, never, no, never for a moment did he abandon the public service.  He never lost sight of your interests.  I declare to you, before that God in whose presence we are now especially assembled, that in his most private and confidential conversations, the single objects of discussion and consideration were your freedom and happiness.  You well remember the state of things which again called forth Washington from his retreat to lead your armies.  You know that he asked for Hamilton to be his second in command.  That venerable sage knew well the dangerous incidents of a military profession, and he felt the hand of time pinching life at its source.  It was probable that he would soon be removed from the scene, and that his second would succeed to the command.  He knew by experience the importance of that place—­and he thought the sword of America might safely be confided to the hand which now lies cold in that coffin.  Oh! my fellow citizens, remember this solemn testimonial that he was not ambitious.  Yet he was charged with ambition, and, wounded by the imputation, when he laid down his command he declared in the proud independence of his soul, that he never would accept any office, unless in a foreign war he should be called on to expose his life in defense of his country.  This determination was immovable.  It was his fault that his opinions and his resolutions could not be changed.  Knowing his own firm purpose, he was indignant at the charge that he sought for place or power.  He was ambitious only for glory, but he was deeply solicitous for you.  For himself he feared nothing; but he feared that bad men might, by false professions, acquire your confidence, and abuse it to your ruin.

Brethren of the Cincinnati—­there lies our chief!  Let him still be our model.  Like him, after long and faithful public services, let us cheerfully perform the social duties of private life.  Oh! he was mild and gentle.  In him there was no offense; no guile.  His generous hand and heart were open to all.

Gentlemen of the bar—­you have lost your brightest ornament.  Cherish and imitate his example.  While, like him, with justifiable and laudable zeal, you pursue the interests of your clients, remember, like him, the eternal principle of justice.