porter died, having been thirty-three years with them. At the time of these deaths, there was no one in the establishment who had not been there twenty-five years.
One day, in the early part of his illness, he said to his brother Peter, who was a partner in the business: “I have been for many years a member of the Board of Foreign Missions, and it has been a great blessing to me. I want you to send a thousand dollars to the Board from me. And the work of Christ in our own country is of equal importance, so I want to send a thousand dollars at the same time to Home Missions.” He did not say it, but it was evident that he felt that these were dying gifts. He had always felt very strongly the duty of being his own executor, making all his gifts with the living hand.
On the first day of September there was a communion service in the church. An attached domestic who had lived with him thirteen years first made the suggestion that the Lord’s supper should be given to him. After a little consultation, he was asked if he would like such a service, and he eagerly assented. After church the elders came over to the parsonage, and, with those of his children, grandchildren, and servants who were in Boonton, assembled in the sick-room. He sat pillowed up in bed, looking very venerable and saintly, like the patriarch Jacob surrounded by his children. His eldest son conducted the service, which was a very tender one. He spoke of its being just sixty-seven years that month since his father first partook of the communion, and of all who then were with him having passed over the river. “Rock of Ages,” and “Jesus, Lover of my Soul,” were sung. Mr. Carter said afterwards, that it was most delightful to have so many of his children
