he returned my
salutation with that ease and dignity characteristic of the gentleman
of the old school. To-day that towering, manly form is present to my
view, as it stood before me then. He inquired of Judge Gould, his
immediate neighbor, who I was, and was pleased to mention my respectful
demeanor toward him. My reply, when told of this, was: "I should have
despised myself, could I have acted otherwise toward one so eminent,
and who was the confidential friend of Washington." This was reported
to the venerable colonel, who showed his appreciation of my conduct by
extending to me many kindnesses during my stay in the village.

By his own hearth-stone I have listened with eager interest to the
narration of Andre's capture and execution. He was opposed, with
Alexander Hamilton, to the hanging of Andre, and always contended that
it was not clearly established that he had come into the American lines
as a spy. Andre, when captured, wore his uniform under an overcoat,
which concealed it, and the papers found on his person only proved that
he sought to deliver them to Arnold. The day before his execution he
solemnly declared his only object was an interview with Arnold, or,
should he fail in this, to contrive to send him the papers which had
been found upon him. When he knew the commander-in-chief had refused
him clemency, through Colonel Talmadge he appealed to Washington to let
him be shot, and die a soldier's death--not to permit him to perish as
a felon upon the gallows. Colonel Talmadge, when he stated this wish to
him, assured him it would be granted. Every effort was made, by his
officers and aides, to induce the granting of the request, but in vain.
"And never in my life," said Colonel Talmadge, "have I had imposed upon
me so painful a duty as communicating this fact to the young and
gallant officer. He saw my embarrassment and feelings, and, rising from
his seat, said: 'Colonel, I thank you for the generous interest you
have taken in my case. It has proved of no avail; yet I am none the
less grateful.' He paused a moment, when he continued: 'It is hard to
die, and to die thus. My time is short, and I must employ it in writing
to my family, and must request that you will see my letters forwarded
to headquarters.' I promised; when he extended his hand, and, grasping
mine, asked: 'Is this our last parting, or shall I see you to-morrow?'
I told him it had been made my duty to superintend his execution. 'We
will part at