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Republics are always ungrateful," remarked Burr, "but what they fail to do, good citizens should combine to do in their collective capacity. I pity these poor children very much. I pity them ten dollars worth," said he as he arose and took that sum from his purse. He placed the money upon an empty plate and said: "Gentlemen, how much do you pity them?"

The plate was passed around the table and when it finally reached Burr's hands again the sum of money that it contained amounted to nearly thirty dollars. Emptying the money remaining in his purse into his hand, he put it in his pocket. Then he placed the contributions in the purse and gave it to the boy who was the elder of the two, with a strict injunction to give it to his mother. Then, stepping to the door, he called a waiter. He whispered something in his ear. A few minutes later, the servant returned bearing a large basket.

"Gentlemen," said Burr, "there are many dainties. upon the table, some of which are untasted, while of others only a portion has been eaten. With your kind permission, I will send some of them to the mother of these poor children."

As with one accord, the guests jumped to their feet and vied with each other in supplying Burr with viands from the table.

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"Put in a couple of bottles of wine," said Martin. It will help to build up the mother's strength. No doubt she is worse off than the children."

The old lawyer's suggestion was complied with and the waiter was instructed to accompany the children. home and give the contents of the basket to the mother with the compliments of Aaron Burr and his friends. Burr offered the waiter some compensation for his trouble but he refused it.

"Can you sing any other song?" asked Burr, when the children were ready to depart.

$

"We know one more," said the little girl, "that mother taught us."

"What is it?" asked Burr.

"Mother is Scotch," said the little girl," and so was father. They used to sing Auld Lang Syne and we learned it from them."

"Make room in the centre of the table, gentlemen," cried Burr. A space was soon cleared. Burr lifted the children, one at a time, as gently as the most loving father could have done, and stood them side by side in the centre of the table. Then the guests arose from their chairs without any suggestion and stood about the table. The little voices sang the words of the song and the chorus was taken up by Burr and his guests. As he placed the children once more upon the floor, he kissed each upon the forehead and they then ran out of the room behind the waiter with his ponderous basket, the sound of their childish laughter floating back into the room.

And thus ended Aaron Burr's formal welcome home to his native land by his tried and true friends.

I

CHAPTER XXIX

A FATHER'S LOVE

T was early in the month of January in the year 1813. Burr sat at his desk in Colonel Troup's

office. The latter, who was suffering from some slight physical ailment, had gone home. The hour was between one and two o'clock. During the morning, a long stream of visitors had had its wants attended to and had departed. Burr had just returned from the coffee-house where he had obtained his lunch and was smoking a cigar. It was with difficulty that he had found sufficient money to pay for the modest meal which he had enjoyed. Upon his desk stood four large lawbooks arranged in the form of a rectangle which he called "The Well." Into this well, it was his custom to throw each day all the money received by him for fees and retainers. That morning he had had many calls from the orphans and widows of Revolutionary soldiers, from relatives of former political allies, and from many former political associates who were now themselves in reduced circumstances. To none of them did he turn a deaf ear. None of them went away without some substantial recognition of their request for pecuniary aid. In but few cases were any written acknowledgments taken as a record of the loan. In fact, Colonel Burr gave as little personal attention to the repayment of money loaned as he did to the repayment of money borrowed. To use an idiomatic expression, he was built that way; if he could make one account square another, financially speaking, he was satisfied.

He leaned back in his armchair, gave several strong puffs from his cigar, and glanced up at the picture of Theodosia which hung on the wall opposite him. Then he soliloquized half to himself and half aloud: "With what opposite feelings of aversion and attraction did I return to my native land after an exile of four years. As I walked through the streets of Boston in disguise and under an assumed name, I questioned if it were not better that Aaron Burr should die a civil death and that Adolphe Arnot should succeed to his fortune." He leaned back in his armchair and laughed satirically. My fortune!" Then his manner changed. "No, that thought conquered me in a weak moment; it was unworthy of Aaron Burr who still has fortune and fame before him." He arose from his chair, walked across the room and leaned his elbow on the old colonial mantelpiece, beneath which a bright wood fire was burning, the logs and gnarled roots sending a shower of sparks up the wide-mouthed chimney, occasionally throwing some into the office itself where they expired harmlessly, on the sanded floor. "I came here, found friends as well as foes. My dear Troup gave me this office-put business in my way—the first three weeks I took two thousand dollars in fees-with strength of will and Theodosia and her boy-"

Before he could complete his speech, the office door was opened suddenly and Blennerhassett's old servant, Ransome, entered. The old negro's face was beaming with smiles, and as Burr advanced towards him with outstretched hand he emitted one of those oily, unctuous chuckles, the vocal construction of which he had evidently not forgotten. Burr cried:

"Welcome, Ransome! Your old black face looks brighter than an angel's to me for you bring me tidings from my daughter Theodosia and Gamp. Speak! Are they well?"

Ransome assumed a politic expression: “Lor' bless

you, Massa, they were well, very well when I lef' 'em. mos' three weeks ago. Miss Theodosy, she was nervous like 'cause she hadn't got no letter from you, and Massa Gamp, he, well he was a little ailin', but take 'em all together everybody was well."

“I

Burr did not apparently notice the conflicting elements in Ransome's statement. "Yes, yes, poor girl, my letters must have often failed to reach her-and poor Gamp-just like his mother-such a slight physical frame. But you didn't come alone, Ransome? Lor' bless you, no, Massa," cried Ransome. came with Massa Alston. You know there's a war with England and Massa Alston is goin' to be a general. We stopped in Washington and Philadelphy and we jess got to New York this noon. He sent me out to find you. He is at the inn reading his letters. He said when I found you to come and tell him and he would come to see you right off."

"I suppose," said Burr, "that he has a letter from Theodosia. I, too, am expecting one by this mail. Do you know where the post-office is, Ransome?" The old negro nodded. "Well, here is some money; go and see if you can bring me that most welcome of all gifts a letter from my daughter Theodosia."

With another chuckle, Ransome left the office. He had no sooner closed the door when it was opened again and what Burr supposed to be a client enterd.

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How do you do, Burr?" the newcomer remarked. Burr resumed the chair before his desk. Then he addressed the visitor: "Good afternoon, sir. Have a chair? How can I serve you?"

"You can't serve me at all," the man replied, "I have come to serve a writ on you-not the first time I have had that pleasure.'

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Burr, "I never saw you before."

The man rejoined: "Your memory is poor, Burr.