After I had retired for the night I have seen him from my window
standing in the moonlight on the brink of the bluff overlooking the
Hudson with his arms stretched out to the heavens as though in
appeal. I thought at the time that he was praying, although I never
understood that he was in the strict sense of the term a religious
man.
Several months after I had returned home from my last visit, the
first of March, 1886, I think, I received a telegram from him asking
me to come to him at once. I had always been his favorite among the
younger generation of Carters and so I hastened to comply with his
demand.
I arrived at the little station, about a mile from his grounds, on
the morning of March 4, 1886, and when I asked the livery man to
drive me out to Captain Carter's he replied that if I was a friend
of the Captain's he had some very bad news for me; the Captain had
been found dead shortly after daylight that very morning by the
watchman attached to an adjoining property.
For some reason this news did not surprise me, but I hurried out to
his place as quickly as possible, so that I could take charge of the
body and of his affairs.
I found the watchman who had discovered him, together with the local
police chief and several townspeople, assembled in his little study.
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