In submitting Captain Carter's strange manuscript to you in book form, I believe that a few words relative to this remarkable¹ personality will be of interest.

 

My first recollection of Captain Carter is of the few months he spent at my father's home in Virginia, just prior to the opening of the civil war. I was then a child of but five years, yet I well remember the tall, dark, smooth-faced, athletic² man whom I called Uncle Jack³.

 

He seemed always to be laughing; and he entered into the sports of the children with the same hearty⁴ good fellowship he displayed toward those pastimes in which the men and women of his own age indulged; or he would sit for an hour at a time entertaining my old grandmother with stories of his strange, wild life in all parts of the world. We all loved him, and our slaves fairly worshipped the ground he trod.

 

He was a splendid specimen⁶ of manhood, standing⁷ a good two inches over six feet, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip⁵, with the carriage of the trained fighting man. His features were regular and clear cut, his hair black and closely cropped, while his eyes were of a steel gray, reflecting a strong and loyal character, filled with fire and initiative. His manners were perfect, and his courtliness was that of a typical southern gentleman of the highest type.

 

His horsemanship, especially after hounds, was a marvel⁸ and delight even in that country of magnificent horsemen. I have often heard my father caution him against his wild recklessness, but he would only laugh, and say that the tumble that killed him would be from the back of a horse yet unfoaled.

 

When the war broke out he left us, nor did I see him again for some fifteen or sixteen years. When he returned it was without warning, and I was much surprised to note that he had not

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