On July 4, according to its custom, the Society of the Cincinnati, composed of former officers of the American army in the Revolution, held a convivial celebration in honor of the Declaration of Independence. Both Hamilton and Burr were members and both attended. Those present recalled later that Hamilton was unusually gay, leading the others in song, while Burr was more serious than was his usual custom at these parties. Their conduct toward each other was so correct that nobody suspected that the two men shortly were to meet in a duel. Early on the morning of the 11th Hamilton, accompanied by Nathaniel Pendleton, his second, and Dr. Davis Hosack, his surgeon, crossed the river and arrived at the rendezvous. They found Burr and Van Ness already on the ground, busy clearing away the underbrush and overhanging boughs. The formal greetings required by the “Code” were exchanged. The seconds loaded, inspected and approved the pistols, and agreed on the procedure. The principals took their positions. In appearance they were evenly matched. Both men were short of stature, trim in figure, alert but calm. Whatever their shortcomings neither lacked physical courage. With pistols gripped they awaited instructions which were not long in coming. The order “Fire!” was given by Pendleton in a loud voice, and two shots followed. Burr stood unmoved; Hamilton fell forward on his face. Pendleton and Hosack rushed to the wounded man’s side. Burr made a motion as if to do likewise but was restrained by Van Ness, and after removing their hats in respect for their opponent they left the scene. Hamilton managed to tell Dr. Hosack he believed the wound was fatal before he lost consciousness. The ball had passed through his liver and lodged in his spine. He was rowed back across the river to New York and, suffering great pain, lingered through the day and night and died the following afternoon. An incident which occurred on Burr’s return to Richmond Hill, his handsome country home outside the city, affords a momentary glimpse into the strange character of the man. A young relative, unaware of what had happened, dropped by and found Burr engrossed in ordinary household matters. He accepted an invitation to breakfast where the conversation was confined to general topics. After breakfast the young man said goodby and went down to Wall Street where a friend inquired if he had heard that Burr had killed Hamilton in a duel. “Impossible,” exclaimed the relative, “I have just had breakfast with the Colonel and he said nothing about it.” Those who knew him well say that Burr would have expected no mourning had he, and not Hamilton, been killed.