my own heart, it is far better calculated for the purer joys of domestic life, than for the hurricane of extravagance and dissipation in which I have been wrecked.

"Why is the will of nature so often perverted? Why is social happiness forever sacrificed at the altar of prejudice? Avarice has usurped the throne of reason, and the affections of the heart are not consulted. We cannot command our desires, and when the object of our being is unattained, misery must be necessarily our doom. Let this truth, therefore, be forever remembered: when once an affection has rooted itself in a tender, constant heart, no time, no circumstance can eradicate it. Unfortunate, then, are they who are joined, if their hearts are not matched!

"With this conqueror of my soul, how happy should I now have been! What storms and tempests should I have avoided (at least I am pleased to think so) if I had been allowed to follow the bent of my inclinations! and happier, O, ten thousand times happier should I have been with him, in the wildest desert of our native country, the woods affording us our only shelter, and their fruits our only repast, than under the canopy of costly state, with all the refinements and embellishments of courts, with the royal warrior who would fain have proved himself the conqueror of France.

"My conqueror was engaged in another cause, he was ambitious to obtain other laurels: he fought to liberate, not to enslave nations. He was a colonel in the American army, and high in the estimation of his country: his victories were never accompanied with one gloomy, relenting thought; they shone as bright as the cause which achieved them! I had communicated by letter to General Putnam the proposals of this gentleman, with my determination to accept them, and I was embarrassed by the answer which the general returned; he entreated me to remember that the person in question, from his political principles, was extremely obnoxious to my father, and concluded by observing, 'that I surely must not unite myself with a man who would not hesitate to drench his sword in the blood of my nearest relation, should he be op

posed to him in battle.' Saying this, he lamented the necessity of giving advice contrary to his own sentiments, since in every other respect he considered the match as unexceptionable."

According to a story told by the late Colonel W. L. Stone (author of the "Life of Brant "), it was no other than Burr himself. Before her arrival at General Putnam's, it appears that Burr, though he was delighted with her wit and vivacity, conceived the idea that she might be a British spy; and as he was looking over her shoulder one day, while she was painting a bouquet, the suspicion darted into his mind that she was using the "language of flowers" for the purpose of conveying intelligence to the enemy. He communicated his suspicion to General Washington, who thought it only prudent to remove her a few miles further inland, to the quarters of General Mifflin; where, after the evacuation of the city, Burr met her again, and, as she says, won her virgin affections. Colonel Stone was very intimate with Burr in his later years, and had long conversations with him about Revolutionary times. He may have derived this pretty tale from Burr himself.

PARAGRAPH RELATING TO MARGARET MONCRIEFFE.

From a New York Newspaper of July, 1846.

During the Revolutionary War, there was an extraordinary lady, highly gifted and beautiful, who made a great noise at that time, by the name of Moncrieffe, who subsequently wrote her memoirs, which will be found in the City Library. While she was riding on horseback near our lines, with a servant, she was taken prisoner and brought to West Point, her father being a major in the British service, and a distinguished engineer. She was detained as a prisoner by General Putnam. An American officer of any rank, she said, would be given for her. She commenced drawing flowers for her

amusement, which were executed with great taste and skill, and presented them to General Putnam. She drew some also for her own purposes. In this manner her time was occupied for several days, promenading the walks wheresoever she thought proper. Col. Burr, aid to Putnam, was absent during this period. On his return to camp, these specimens of the lady's taste and talent were shown to him. He requested the favor of being shown all that she had drawn for her own use. They were promptly produced. After being entirely satisfied that he had them all in his possession, he remarked that they were so beautiful, and so admirably executed, that he could not part with them. At or about this time, the works at West Point had undergone great improvement and repairs, under the superintendence of a French engineer. On retiring from the presence of Miss Moncrieffe, Col. Burr exhibited to General Putnam, and the other officers, who had paid no attention to the drawings, some faint lines under the flowers which the lady had painted—that those lines, when connected, was a complete draft of all the works, as recently improved, and which she intended to bear off to the camp of the enemy. Her capture was premeditated. Miss Moncrieffe was a regular spy in petticoats. She was sent down to New York, and staid at head-quarters, at the corner of Broadway and the Battery; but she was so close an observer of everything going on, that the commanding general had to send her to her father, who was with the British troops in New Jersey.

COL. BURR DENIES CLAIMING PROTECTION AS A BRITISH SUBJECT.

"NEW YORK, 28th July, 1812. "SIR: When interrupted this morning, I was about to say to B that when abroad in whatever part of the World, I always defended and eulogized our political and municipal institutions. It was often objected to me that I myself had

been a victim of Democratic rage. Is there any other Government in the World under which only one man out of 5,000,000 can complain of oppression? If not, a single instance proves nothing against the forms of Government. A reply which is more suited to silence, though perhaps without convincing the objector.

"Another rumor which has been industriously circulated, may have appeared to you more probable, to wit, that I had claimed protection as a British subject, having had some difficulty with the Home Department, (then Lord Liverpool's) about passports and permission to travel (which terminated in my imprisonment and banishment).

"It was strongly recommended to me by a man of very high consideration, enjoying an important place under Government, but hating personally Lord Liverpool, to defend myself against his persecutions, by claiming my birth-right as a British subject. It was presumed that I would cheerfully seize this mode to disengage myself from thraldom, and to mortify and if I should please, to punish Lord Liverpool.

"It became a topic of conversation, and many distinguished persons took a very lively interest in the question. A very profound, and learned argument of 60 octavo pages, tracing the law from the time of William the Conqueror to the then present day (1808) was drawn up for the occasion by one of the ablest and most celebrated Lawyers in the British dominions, and put into my hands. My rights were Demonstrated beyond a doubt. I refused to suffer myself to be called a British subject, for a single day; for any purpose, under any circumstances; nor did I at any moment swerve from this determination."

The letter from which the above is extracted, was addressed to his tried and intimate friend, Erie Bolman, Esq., of Philadelphia, and has been very strangely overlooked by M. L. Davis, and Parton.

APPENDIX II.

LETTERS OF COL. BURR TO "KATE.”

AND SO my dear Kate has come a little nearer. I do think I shall call one of these days and take a dish of tea with you, and be off again in half an hour; in the meantime I want to be a little better acquainted with you and the brats; tell me their ages and what they are like, and be a little more communicative about your pretty self; have you grown fat or lean, or neither? Est ce que tu es toujours belle? je veux que ma nièce soit toujours belle; now if you dare grow ugly, Lord, how I will hate you?

21st, August, 1812.

MY DEAR KATE: While I read your letter, I seem to hear the sound of that soft voice which has so often charmed me. How I wish you were near me to help me dispel this gloom that threatens to subdue my soul; indeed my dear creature, I am fit for nothing.

Your offer of a refuge for a victim of despair, is kind and considerate, but alas, I fear the subject of it will smile under the weight of his afflictions.

Excuse me, my lovely friend; in a few days I will write you

more.

7th February, 1813.

MY DEAR KATE: I have received your letter of yesterday, but not in season to answer by return of mail.