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“Remission.” I knew this meant pardon. Did it
refer to the woman whose corpse they were then
burying? I thought so, and turned to my aunt to
tell her my thought.
When I looked again the head of the woman had
moved slowly toward her body, hiding from view
the first syllable of the word “Remission,” making
the message read “Mission,” which stood out in
clear relief. I turned again to my aunt to see if
she noted this, and when I cast my eyes on the
wonder-bearing heavens, another and a vaster vision
had filled all the etherial space. To the right tow
ered beautiful rose-tinted mountains of cloud, and
between two lofty peaks stood a cajestic form
which I felt with a thrill of awe must be that of
Jesus —the Christ. The soft, roseate color en
veloped this form like a mist when the sunrise
smites it. For a while, the picture loomed before
me unalterably grand, then it vanished. What did
the dream mean?
I have thought it symbolized the death of Evil
portrayed in the funeral and in the dim outline of
the dark figure obscured by the bright form of the
woman. This woman with the glowing word, “Re
mission,” traced across her form, was the promise
of hope for a lost world through Christ, and the
after-moving of her head so as to hide the first
syllable of “Remission.” leaving “Mission.” standing
out so plain, signified that we must do our part
and fulfill our mission, which is helping our fellow
men and aiding in the spread of Christianity. The
last vision—the appearance of Christ —was it pro
phetic of the coming? I dared to believe it might
be. What do you think, Household friends; and,
Gwinnett Farmer, what do you say to such dreams
as this?
When I woke from this strange dream it was a
beautiful, bright Sabbath morning. My thoughts
were filled with the wonderful pictures which sleep
had revealed to me. At service that day, the words
of the song, “Cheerful Giving,” seemed repeating
themselves to me,- and I doubled my usual contribu
tion to the church and missionary fund. LEO.
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The Golden Age for October 31, 1907.
AUNT LIZE.
“Aunt Lize Simpson,” as she was called, had lived
alone in an old log cabin ever since I could re
member. Her only neighbor was “Old Jack” Hous
ton, who was deaf and dumb, and who lived in a
cave which he had dug in the bluff a mile down the
creek.
Aunt Lize owned a small farm which was culti
vated on shares by old Jack. Both were peculiar.
Aunt Lize was said to be half crazy. No one ever
visited her, and she was never seen away from her
cabin. Certain it was that she was ill-tempered,
and wished to be let alone, and her wish had always
been respected, partly because her attitude was nat
urally reciprocated in kind, and partly because the
ruling maxim of the mountain folks is “ ’Tend ter
yer own bizness, an let ’tother feller alone.”
I learned her story from old Ike Hartwell. “Yes,”
he said, “Aunt Lize was old Doc Gray’s darter, and
wuz his only child. She was the purtiest gal in the
county then, and all the young fellers tried to court
her, but ’long come a feller named Sam Simpson
and cut ’em all out, and got engaged to ’Liza, ’bout
the time the war broke out. He had to go off in the
army, and him and Lize got married the day he left.
Recon he wuz afeered some other feller’d beat
him, and wanted the ceremony said before he left.
So he said good-bye to his new-made bride and
marched away, and nobody’s ever seed him since,
Some said he got killed in the army, some said
he got hung for a spy.
“Anyhow, Lize has jist lived alone ever since the
war, her father being killed by bushwhackers. She
is nigh onto sixty years old now, and I reckon she
will live and die alone thar in her cabin.”
One summer day, after old Uncle Ike gave me the
above history, I met a stranger who was old and
shabbily dressed, and he asked me to direct him to
where Eliza Simpson lived. I complied, and he hur
ried on.
Now, a moonshiner usually keeps a close watch
on any stranger who appears in the neighborhood
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until he assures himself of said stranger’s business;
so, after the old fellow had passed on I “shadowed”
him. I wondered what on earth could cause any
one to inquire for Aunt Lize; I meant to find out.
From my place of concealment on the hillside I
watched him approach her gate. She met him at
the gate; they looked at each other a moment, and
with a mutual cry of ecstasy, such as I shall never
forget, they were clasped in each other’s arms. I
was dumfounded. Could it be possible that it was
her long-lost bridegroom? I sneaked away guiltily.
The story o fthe bridegroom’s return soon spread,
and was a nine-days’ wonder.
They hired laborers and remodeled the old house
and farm, and then all the neighbors were invited
to visit them one night. We all went, you may be
sure. After a goodly supper, the returned prodigal
told his story which, briefly, was as follows:
Toward the close of the war he was coming home
on a furlough, when he was arrested on the charge
of murder, convicted on circumstantial evidence, and
sentenced to life imprisonment. Lately a dying
man’s confession had cleared him and he had has
tened home to his waiting bride. He had never
apprised her of his fate, as he wished to spare her
the sorrow of knowing that he was condemned to
a living tomb with no hope of ever being free.
Today they are living together on their little farm
as happily as any young bride and groom could be
MOONSHINER.
“SCHLUMMERLIED.”
Drift me to Dreamland in Morpheus’ boat,
On Lotus-lined wavelets now set me afloat;
Dream Fancies will bear me so lightly away,
Earth cares to forget, till dawns a new day.
Smooth out the wrinkles and sink me in sleep,
Sink me in slumber deliciously deep;
Smooth out the creases that worry and care
Have traced on my brow once so smooth and so fair.
JABEB.
11