school, heard his son preach twice, and spoke at an open-air prayer meeting in the woods. As he rose to speak, one who noticed how feeble he was moved his own chair so that he might catch him if he fell.
He had expected to go with some of his children and grandchildren to Sharon Springs on July 8th, and every arrangement was made for the journey; but on Saturday, July 6th, he was taken with a return of the illness which he had had several times the winter before. A message was sent to his daughter late on Saturday night, and at an early hour on Sunday she was at his side. One of his grandchildren, looking from the window, said to him, “Grandpa, here is aunt getting out of a carriage at the door.” “Ah! I knew she would come,” he said, in tones of joy and affection, and his welcome was with all his wonted tenderness,—more was hardly possible.
Then began a struggle, which lasted nearly six months, in which skilled physicians and loving watchers strove to ward off the assaults of disease and death. It was an unequal struggle, and would have been still more so, at his advanced age, but for his splendid powers of endurance. His physician never examined him without exclaiming over the breadth and depth of his chest, and saying, “Mr. Carter, that is what is pulling you through.”
Old and attached family servants came to assist in caring for him. Such had always been at his command, for in all his fifty-six years of housekeeping a servant had seldom left his house, where many had learned the way of salvation, except to enter a home of her own. Though often in great suffering, and always in much weakness, not a murmur ever passed his lips. On the contrary, words of thanksgiving and praise were often there.
