l thy country's heart goes out to thee.

The Story of a Daughter's Love

Aaron Burr was past-master of what Whistler calls "the gentle art of
making enemies!" Probably no man ever lived who was more bitterly
hated or more fiercely reviled. Even at this day, when he has been
dead more than half a century, his memory is still assailed.

It is the popular impression that he was a villain. Perhaps he was,
since "where there is smoke, there must be fire," but happily we have
no concern with the political part of his life. Whatever he may have
been, and whatever dark deeds he may have done, there still remains a
redeeming feature which no one has denied him--his love for his
daughter, Theodosia.

One must remember that before Burr was two years old, his father,
mother, and grandparents were all dead. He was reared by an uncle,
Timothy Edwards, who doubtless did his best, but the odds were against
the homeless child. Neither must we forget that he fought in the
Revolution, bravely and well.

From his early years he was very attractive to women. He was handsome,
distinguished, well dressed, and gifted in many ways. He was generous,
ready at compliments and gallantry, and possessed an all-compelling
charm.

In the autumn of 1777, his regiment was detailed for scouting duty in
New Jersey, which was then the debatable ground between colonial and
British armies. In January of 1779, Colonel Burr was given command of
the "lines" in Westchester County, New York. It was at this time that
he first met Mrs. Prevost, the widow of a British officer. She lived
across the Hudson, some fifteen miles from shore, and the river was
patrolled by the gunboats of the British, and the land by their
sentries.

In spite of these difficulties, however, Burr managed to make two
calls upon the lady, although they were both necessarily informal. He
sent six of his trusted soldiers to a place on the Hudson, where there
was an overhanging bank under which they moored a large boat, well
supplied with blankets and buffalo robes. At nine o'clock in the
evening he left White Plains on the smallest and swiftest horse he
could procure, and when he reached the rendezvous, the horse was
quickly bound and laid in the boat. Burr and the six troopers stepped
in, and in half an hour they were across the ferry. The horse was
lifted out, and unbound, and with a little rubbing he was again ready
for duty.

Before midnight, Burr was at the house of his b