Instantly, every man or institution that nurses a dislike for Hamilton takes his or its money to the Manhattan Bank. It is no more than a matter of days when the new bank, in the volume of its business and the extent of its deposits, overtops those banks which fly the Hamilton flag. And Aaron, the indefatigable, is in control. At the new Manhattan Bank, he turns on or shuts off the flow of credit, as Brom Mart-ling--spigot-busy in the thirsty destinies of the Bucktails--turns on or shuts off the flow of his own cider. After the first throe of Hamiltonian horror, Governor Jay sends his attorney general. This dignitary demands of Aaron by what authority his Manhattan Company thus hurls itself upon the flanks of a surprised world, in the wolfish guise of a bank? The company was to furnish the world with water; it is now furnishing it with money, leaving it to fill its empty water buckets at the old-time spouts. Also, it has turned its incorporated back on yellow fever, as upon a question in which interest is dead. The Jay attorney general puts these queries to Aaron, who replies with the charter. He points with his slim forefinger; and the Jay attorney general--first polishing his amazed spectacles--reads the following clause: “The surplus capital may be employed in any way not inconsistent with the laws and Constitution of the United States or of the State of New York.” The Jay attorney general gulps a little; his learned Adam’s apple goes up and down. When the aforesaid clause is lodged safe inside his mental stomach, Aaron assists digestion with an explanation. It is short, but lucidly sufficient. “The Manhattan Company, having completed its well and acting within the authority granted by the clause just read, has opened with its surplus capital the Manhattan Bank.” The Jay attorney general stares blinkingly, like an owl at noon. “And you had the bank in mind from the first!” he cries. “Possibly,” says Aaron. “Let me tell you one thing, Colonel Burr,” and the Jay attorney general cracks and snaps his teeth in quite an owlish way; “if the authorities at Albany had guessed your purpose, you would never have received your charter. No, sir; your prayer for incorporation would have been refused.” “Possibly!” says Aaron.