Jefferson grins a hard, angular grin, in which there is wisdom, patience, courage, but not one gleam of humor. “I cannot,” says he, “accept your simile of sheep and shepherd as a happy one. The people of this country are far from being addle-pated sheep. Nor do I find our self-selected shepherds”--here he lets his glance rove cynically to Adams and Hamilton--“such profound scientists of civil rule. Your shepherd is a dictator. This republic--if it is a republic--might more justly be likened to a company of merchants, equal in interests, who appoint agents, but retain among themselves the control.” “And yet,” observes Hamilton, who can think of nothing but Aaron and his own hatred for that new senator, “the present question is one, not of republics or dictatorships, but of Colonel Burr. I know him; know him well. You will find him a crooked gun.” “It is ten years since I saw him,” observes Washington. “I did not like him; but that was because of a forward impertinence which ill became his years. Besides, I thought him egotistical, selfish, of no high aims. That, as I say, was ten years ago; he may have changed vastly for the better.” “There has been no bettering change, sir,” returns Hamilton. His manner is purring, insinuating, the courtier manner, and conveys the impression of one who seeks only to protect Washington from betrayal by his own goodness of heart. “Sir, he is more egotistical, more selfish, than when you parted from him. I think it my duty, since the gentleman will have his place in government, to speak plainly. I hold Colonel Burr to be a veriest firebrand of disorder. None knows better than I the peril of this man. Bold at once and bad, there is nothing too high for his ambition to fly at, nothing too low for his intrigue to embrace. He is both Jack Cade and Cromwell. Like the one, he possesses a sinister attraction for the vulgar herd; like the other, he would not hesitate to lead the herd against government itself, in furtherance of his vile projects.” Neither Adams nor Jefferson goes wholly unaffected by these malignancies; while Washington, whose credulity is measureless when Hamilton speaks, drinks them in like spring water. “Well,” observes the cautious Jefferson, as closing the discussion, “the gentleman himself will soon be among us, and fairness, if not prudence, suggests that we defer judgment on him until experience has given us a basis for it.” “You will find,” says Hamilton, “that he is, as I tell you, but a crooked gun.” Aaron takes his oath as senator, and sinks into a seat among his reverend fellows. As he does so he cannot repress a cynical glance about him--cynical, since he sees more to despise than respect. It is the opening day of the session. Washington as President, severe, of an implacable dignity, appears and reads a solemn address. Later, according to custom, both Senate and House send delegations to wait upon Washington, and read solemn addresses to him.