he prospect of seeing
Washington again. He had acquired a military air and walked more erectly
than ever, for he was somewhat sensitive of his juvenile appearance. He
found Washington in a front room on the second floor. The General wore
his usual blue and buff, and looked less harassed and worn than when he
had last seen him. He rose and shook hands warmly with Hamilton, who
thanked him again for the messages he had received while in hospital.

"I would have had you brought here if there had been any place to make
you comfortable; and I am going to ask you to come and live with me
now--as my aide and secretary."

Hamilton sprang to his feet impetuously. "Oh, sir!" he exclaimed, "I
don't want to leave the regular line of promotion! I don't want to leave
my men. I'm much attached to them. And I'll not deny my ambition, sir; I
want opportunities to distinguish myself. I've already refused two
generals. This war will last for years. There is no reason in the world
why I should not be a general in three."

"No," said Washington, "there is none; there is every possibility of
your becoming one of the most brilliant figures on the revolutionary
battlefields. I admit that, and I understand your ambition.
Nevertheless, I think I can prove to you that there is another way in
which you can serve your country better. I know your uncompromising
sense of duty and your high patriotism, and I am sure you will accept my
invitation when I prove to you that while there are hundreds to fight
valorously, even brilliantly, there is scarcely a man I can get to write
my letters who can do more than punctuate properly or turn a sentence
neatly. You must know the inexpressible value of a brilliant
accomplished versatile secretary, with a brain capable of grasping every
question that arises--and you can imagine how many of that sort have
come my way. I have been driven nearly distracted, dictating,
explaining, revising--when I have so much else to think of. Besides the
constant correspondence with the Congress and the States, something else
is always turning up--to-day it is the exchange of prisoners, a most
important and delicate matter. Were you my secretary, you would also be
my brain: a word would be sufficient. I could trust you so implicitly
that if matters pressed I could confidently sign my name to whatever you
wrote without reading it over. There is no one else living of whom I can
say that. You are the most useful young man in America