Burr was now seldom seen, and when seen, was silent. The air of indifference it was his habit to affect, even towards his nearest friends, was no longer assumed. The conviction of his disappointed ambition, he could not conceal. Nor was this the whole. His credit was near its end. Penury was before him. In the midst of his spendthrift habits and luxurious tastes, his importunate creditors were pressing upon him. His dejection was dark, and deep, and despairing. What to do he was at a loss. What he did do—what occurred, looking at the past, and that which was near by, is hardly credible. Hamilton was at his country-seat; and soon after the early summer sun had arisen, was awakened by a violent ringing at the bell of his front door. He arose, descended, and found Burr at the door. With great agitation, he related circumstances which rendered immediate pecuniary assistance absolutely necessary to him. On returning to his bed, Hamilton relieved the anxiety of his wife, caused by this early call. ‘Who do you think was at the door—Colonel Burr.—He came to ask my assistance!’

Hamilton immediately endeavored to raise the desired sum, which was not without difficulty. While thus exerting himself, he ‘received a note from Colonel Burr, telling him to take no further trouble about it, couched in language which he interpreted as intending in despair to put an end to himself. General Hamilton immediately applied to Church and other of his friends, and raised the money for him.