ects or plans which may have been formed between
General Wilkinson and myself, heretofore, they are now completely
frustrated by the treacherous conduct of Wilkinson; and the world must
pronounce him a perfidious villain. If I am sacrificed, my portfolio
will prove him such."

This petulant outburst was of no avail to stave off the minions of the
law. Burr was again in the toils. He, the distinguished attorney who
had won so many cases before the New York bench, and who had presided
over the Senate of the United States, was summoned to a hearing before
a grand jury in the obscure village of Washington. What a descent from
Washington, the capital, to Washington, the frontier hamlet; from
presidency of the Senate to a prisoner's box in a backwoods
court-house!

The good genius of Burr did not desert him at the hour of this, his
second humiliating ordeal. Fortune, who had rescued him in Kentucky,
again favored him in Mississippi. The grand jury, to the chagrin of
judge and territorial governor, brought in the unexpected presentment
that Aaron Burr was not guilty of any crime or misdemeanor. The jury
was dismissed, but the prisoner was not discharged. Burr, who had many
secret friends, was advised that the governor intended to seize on his
person the moment the court should release him. The conspirator
resolved to elude judiciary and executive by flight. Prudence and
dignity, however, forbade precipitate action. Never was fugitive so
intrepid, so calm. No valet had ever regarded him less than a hero.
But how would Madam Blennerhassett judge him? She had arrived at Bayou
Pierre--that Burr knew--and the first tidings she heard of her
husband told her that he and Burr had been arrested. Burr sat down,
and penned the following:

"WASHINGTON, MISS., Jan. 31, 1807.

"_Mrs. M. Blennerhassett._

"Dear Madam: Your good husband has informed you of the miscarriage
of our plans, and of our humiliating detention by Government
officials. This temporary delay on the road to Beulah is wholly
chargeable to the treachery of one individual in whom I placed
absolute trust. No fit abiding place is yet provided for you on the
Wachita acres. And Orleans is a port closed against us. How
mortifying! Let not these tidings distress you, but draw upon the
infinite resources of a determined will. I am not discouraged--only
pestered and stung by a swarm of mosquitoes in t