Some time after their marriage they removed to Hudson City, where eight years of wedded life passed fleetly away, they losing, in the meantime, the youngest of their four sons, an infant only a few weeks old. In 1816, Mr. Van Buren removed his family to Albany, drawn thither, doubtless, by his increased and increasing professional standing and political leadership. From this time forth, the highest wishes of his early life were crowned with complete success. Wealth, fame and influence were the fruits of his unremitted industry for nearly twenty years. “His natural talents had reached their full expansion; his laborious industry exhibited its proper results; and amid a constellation of great minds, whose brilliant efforts erected and adorned the fabric of New York jurisprudence, the vigor of his intellect and the richness of his learning won for him a conspicuous and acknowledged eminence.” But the voice of adulation fell upon unheeding ears when sickness invaded the household and hastened the cherished wife and mother from her loved ones. Not even the ardent devotion, the deathless affection of the husband whose efforts in life had all been made for her, could stay the destroyer in his cruel work. For months she lay an invalid, tended by those who loved her more than life, and then sank into the grave a victim of consumption. A gentleman of high distinction, who knew her intimately from her earliest years, said, “There never was a woman of a purer and kinder heart.” Gentle and winning in life, her memory is redolent with the perfume of her saintly sweetness and purity. Miss Cantine, the niece of Mrs. Van Buren, who was but sixteen years of age at the time of her aunt’s death, gives this picture of her last days: “Aunt Hannah lived but a short time after their removal to Albany, dying at the early age of thirty-five, when her youngest child was still an infant. I can recall but little about her till her last sickness and death, except the general impression I have of her modest, even timid manner—her shrinking from observation, and her loving, gentle disposition. The last, long sickness (she was confined to the house for six months) and her death are deeply engraved on my memory. When told by her physicians that she could live, in all probability, but a few days longer, she called her children to her and gave them her dying counsel and blessing, and with the utmost composure bade them farewell and committed them to the care of the Saviour she loved, and in whom she trusted.