Time out for family!

The news for this week is remarkable, unusual, and unexpected family history success.

This entire entry is a deviation from my ongoing diatribe–uh, dialogue. So what’s a little digression within this diversion? I apparently haven’t got the same compunctions as Elder Adam S. Bennion, who said, “I always wish I could take the privilege of that Middle Western minister about whom it was said he first announced the text; second he departed from it, and third he never returned” (BYU Speeches of the Year, 2 Feb 1954, 3).

First I shall lay the foundation for the excitement of discovery by conversing about what was already known. In preface, wander back with me to northern Florida around the turn of the last century. Descend south of Jacksonville on toward the area of the ancient coastal city of St. Augustine, walking amid dense forests of tall trees with very large, gnarled, aboveground roots, frequently surrounded with untamed swamp. Little has changed from the conquistadors’ travels through this vast and mysterious region. In time we come to a more southerly verdant area, replete with Spanish moss, ferns, and other unusual foliage recalling primeval forestation.

Together we peer at my great-great-grandfather, Thomas Oscar Miller. He came from a farming family (which evidently followed the rivers out of the “wiregrass” portion of Georgia) and dealt in the horse trade. He was a pale-skinned, blue-eyed, red-haired man with a rather large mustache and a penchant for marrying women not acceptable by the social conventions of his time and region.

In 1900 he had to bury his first wife and their little child. Interestingly, they were buried with but crude markers, even by comparison, and well outside of the family plot. When I first discovered their marriage record, it gradually dawned on me that the “Col” after her name had no reference to any sort of social rank. In those days, the southern states had laws on the books greatly resembling Hitler’s Nuremberg laws, with an odd kind of insistence on remembering the slightest “infraction.”

What noone in our family knew until September 2006 was the similarity in action when he next married my ancestor, Lillie or Lily Saunders. While it’s not altogether impossible that her family had long forgotten a “peculiar” aspect of its origins, it would have been easy to conceal after their move to Georgia between 1800 and 1804, or again when they went to Florida by about 1845.

One source recounts some of what occurred with her ancestors on the paternal side:

In 1731, the Commons House of Assembly considered the case of Gideon Gibson, a free mulatto carpenter from Virginia, who migrated to South Carolina with his white wife and children. Concerned over the presence of a free black with a white wife, a committee investigated Gibson, but found him to be a responsible, and fairly prominent, member of his local community, owning two tracts of land and seven slaves as well. Gibson and his family were declared “not Negroes nor Slaves but Free people.” The Gibsons went on to prosper in the economic and social life of Craven County.

Specifically, HL [Henry Laurens] refers to an incident involving Gideon’s son, also named Gideon (d. ca. 1783). In 1768, the younger Gibson, who owned 1,100 acres, and was a leader in the Regulator movement in the Peedee region, was targeted for arrest by the Provost Marshal. The local militia leader, George Gabriel Powell, attempted to take Gibson into custody. Gibson refused to surrender and Powell’s militiamen sided with the Regulator. Humiliated by the conduct of his troops, Powell resigned as militia colonel and sought vindication against Gibson by attacking his racial background. The matter went before the South Carolina assembly (of which HL was then a member) which according to HL’s version of events noted . . ., was not receptive to Powell’s accusations.

Henry Laurens offered an oft-quoted observation, such as on this here linked site, which is nonetheless still riddled with other (just-as-oft-omitted) racial prejudices (such as Gibson’s children being still more “whitewashed” than he was):

Reasoning from the colour carries no conviction. . . . Gideon Gibson escaped the penalties of the negro law by producing upon comparison more red and white in his face than could be discovered in the faces of half the descendants of the French refugees in our House of Assembly.

This difficult line to trace is corroborated—and challenged—here and there on the Internet, but it’s hardly my intention to pull out the papers at this time. Depending on whose side you’re reading, Gibson is either vilified or lionized. He had enemies, to be sure.

As for the interesting subject of blacks and the priesthood, which I would never permit to become disdainful or controversial in my presence, regarding either the Church or my good brothers and sisters of every nation, kindred, tongue, and people, I simply refer in passing to one interesting website, the fact that most racial commentary people have attempted to quote have been falsely attributed to early leaders (and I’m in some position to have studied that out), and two thoughts from pre-1978 presidents of the Church:

President Joseph F. and other Church leaders spent hours, days, and sometimes weeks on the various train lines while traveling among the Saints. Usually, President Joseph F. Smith had access to a private car, making these trips a little more comfortable for the venerated leader. On one such trip, a very extended excursion to Florida, President Joseph F. was accompanied by his wife Julina Lambson Smith and his daughter Emily Jane. She recalled:

“Moma & Papa at the rear of the train. Pres. Smith usually had his own car as they traveled on the railroad. . . . President Smith invited the railroad porters into his car to kneel and have family prayer with his family. They loved Pres. Smith. He admonished them to live their religion and some day, probably not in their life time or his, but some day those who lived worthily would receive the priesthood.” (Richard Neitzel Holzapefel and R.Q. Shupe, Joseph F. Smith: Portrait of a Prophet [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 2000], 183-184)

In discussion with one individual, caught in the lie perpetuated by a recent scholarly publication that delighted more in stirring flames than getting to the heart of matters, I corrected the impression that President Harold B. Lee allegedly left with others: that the blacks would never receive the priesthood while he was around. His press announcement (November 16, 1972), addressing the matter of conferral of the priesthood, as president of the Church speaks differently:

It’s only a matter of time before the black achieves a full status in the Church. We must believe in the justice of God. The black will achieve full status, we’re just waiting for that time. (L. Brent Goates, Harold B. Lee: Prophet & Seer [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1985], 506)

Returning to the marriage of Thomas Oscar Miller and Lillie Saunders on March 26, 1901 in St. Johns County, Florida.... His bride is reputed to have been very beautiful, as was her brother’s daughter. Her first husband had stepped out one day to go to the store and never returned. Her brother, John, spoke only in very hushed tones that they might find him if they drained Lake Stella; in this, he was not confessing a part but hinting at knowing the culprits, but he was unwilling to expose himself and family to dangers. (He wrote to my grandmother’s family shortly before his death in 1941 that he was ready to talk about it, but that never transpired.) Considering the rough-and-tumble nature of the region, this isn’t surprising. Lillie’s aunt, Ozella/Ozilla/Ozillia, had a first husband killed in a gunfight over cattle rights—for an interesting read on frontier justice, historical puzzles, and detective work, refer to this other linked site, by search term: death.

The tragic cycle continued. After my great-grandmother’s birth in Haw Creek in 1903, and her little brother’s birth in Bunnell in 1904, both Lillie and a little boy died of blood poisoning related to childbirth around 1905 or 1906. Yet again, Thomas buried a wife and small child. We don’t even know where! The only reference I’ve ever discovered was to some site near Fort Lauderdale, which makes little sense with the family’s residence.

In time, Thomas married his third wife, who had a six-year-old boy out of wedlock (in all actuality probably not belonging to him). She became a torment, like Cindarella’s stepmother, to my great-grandmother, Nettie. When Thomas died of cancer while she was still a young woman, it was apparent that it was time to leave, so Nettie went south to West Palm Beach and became a waitress. I’ve never found a living person who can explain how she met her husband there, when by all accounts he had no reason to be away from the vicinity of Atlanta. The hardships continued all of her life, with a house fire destroying her every earthly possession. Her husband preceded her in death by twenty years, wasting away from lung cancer and leaving her to struggle for subsistence through a nursery behind her tiny home by the railroad tracks. But she was a very practical woman, who could grow anything and make a meal out of anything. If one spotted a turtle moving through the yard, odds were good that dinner was supplied! I own a Bible that she clearly read in its entirety, an impressive accomplishment for one lacking a rudimentary education, and still more damning to the rest of us. It is also obvious from the emphasis in her markings and occasional notes that she took it literally and seriously. She could recite all the botanical names of her plants; she and her husband both had an aptitude for taming wild animals—I love a photograph of a pet squirrel, Pedro, sitting on Great-Grandpa’s knee.

Stepping forward.... On March 13, 2000, thanks to a grant, the Sorenson Molecular Genealogy Foundation drew my blood for a DNA sample, giving me $10 to do so! This took place in the Widtsoe Building on BYU campus. (Only two days previous to that I’d performed the initial work on an ancestor of a different line that in less than two weeks turned into another precious experience, so perhaps we can perceive that God is blessing us all the time...the timing of fruition is the more difficult matter for mortal comprehension.) When I’ve remembered that test from time to time, I’ve known I was waiting for the general availability of such technology to bring costs down to where it’d be reasonable to inquire about what this sample showed. On March 14, 2008, almost exactly eight years later, I got a special e-mail offer, as an early participant, to access one particular test result for $19.50 (half of which is covered by what they gave me in the first place).

It’s a pity they didn’t have results ready in time for a recent presentation—not that I would’ve known how to cram anything else into it. Earlier this week, GeneTree finally unlocked the profile. As far as things have come, at present only certain results are available. I was able to view the outcome of a maternal mitochondrial strand, which pertains solely to the mother in each successive generation. However, the site showed that I’m an exact genetic match (too close for genetic variation, i.e., mutation to have occurred) for someone else who was already signed in to the system. In less than 24 hours, I was in e-mail contact with an excited cousin.

You see, my great-aunt spent her life hoping to find Lillie Saunders’ parentage. This only began to open up shortly after her death. Being the overly meticulous researcher I am, even when holding several puzzle pieces I still had my doubts concerning the mother for Lillie, who also appears to have died within three years of Lillie’s birth, perhaps even immediately afterward. In one moment, several links are solidified beyond that point of former doubt, putting to scorn the time I wasted attempting to scrutinize things to my picky satisfaction. Whereas external evidences can at times be difficult, we again learn (the important added spiritual lesson) that internal evidences cannot lie. My newfound cousin’s direct maternal line terminates with a common ancestor four generations beyond Lillie. Shortly before 1800, our ancestors were sisters in the same household: that of Solomon Reaves and Sarah Floyd, of Columbus County, North Carolina. Thus my mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother was the same person as her mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s mother. This reminds me of another phone conversation I had with a financial representative some time ago:

Him: I’m going to have to ask you a security question.
Me: Go ahead.
Him: Uh...okay...what’s your mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s maiden name?
Me: Saunders.
Him: Well done! I have to say, we don’t get that one very often.
Me: That’s the idea with security questions, right?

(This lineage links me, again, into several more direct ancestors who served in the American Revolution. Concerning Solomon Reaves, who did have a truly unflattering meeting with Francis Asbury, it’s said: “Reaves eventually became a large landowner, but preaching was his major interest. He spoke at churches and tent meetings throughout the territory which was to become Columbus County. Apparently he was the best-known preacher in the area. His services were in great demand. Reaves served as chaplain of a local militia company during the American Revolution. He was twice burned out by the Tories because of his activities with the Whigs.”)

This new family opens up a very large realm of possibilities and lots of work. If I can test the strength of one more commonly-accepted link, I will grant without reservation that I tie into a Lewis family with close connections to General Washington’s ancestral home. (This web link covers all of that history, along with the Lewises, an interesting mania for DNA testing, and pedigree matters I will shortly delight in traversing. Susan, as one with a direct interest therein, that link, and every associated one with the last three paragraphs and ending external link, will be worth even your valuable time, if no other reader’s.)

This Lewis line is somewhat enthusiastically traced directly back to one whom I feel is most accurately termed “a semi-legendary ancestor to the kings of Gwent,” named Caradoc Freichfras. In one of those odd ironies of life, his legend blends into that of Arthur, as he is associated with his knights. I had no idea in bringing that up last time that this would suddenly become more relevant. Now, the mists of history render nearly everything connected with these times fantastic and nearly to entirely not to be believed. Nonetheless, the reader is sure to believe me when I mention how much I appreciated reading that Caradoc is said in the Mabinogion (far closer to the basis for Arthurian tales than William of Malmesbury) to have uttered this shortly before tearing his way into battle:

“Whether thou mayest choose to proceed or not, I will proceed.” Thou sayest well,” said Arthur, “and we will go altogether.” “Iddawe,” said Rhonabwy, “who was the man who spoke so marvelously unto Arthur erewhile?” “A man who may speak as boldly as he listeth, Caradawc Vreichvras, the son of Llyr Marini, his chief counselor and his cousin.”

Throughout my life I’ve breathed sighs of relief at never connecting to royalty, deeming them at times among the filthiest families in Europe. I prefer the brave and simple folk upon whom life really depends. Previews for “The Other Boleyn Girl” appear to depict royalty at its stereotypical heights: brats behaving badly. (I did a double take recently when meeting someone whose last name was Holbein, thinking that my thoughts about Henry’s times had just created an illusion.) Similarly, I chortled at Paine’s assessment of nobility as no-ability. So if I must tie into “famous” families, I think I can handle Welsh royal genealogy. They are among those sworn to an unending hostility to both Anglo-Saxon and Norman encroachment. The title “Prince of Wales” bestowed upon English royalty has for nearly a millennium been but usurped from the original holders. Giraldus Cambrensis had some praiseworthy things to say about Welsh warriors. I’m a fan of Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain, and have them in my bookcase of recommended reading for any future children I might just possibly maybe happen to have.

There was, however, a time when I committed royal pedigrees to memory, since somehow I couldn’t just stop with my own. (I think I’ve mentioned before that Ether 1:6-33 struck me favorably at age eight, and that long before I was twelve I was filling lined sheets of paper with transcribed Biblical lineages.) My scoutmaster had me recite Prince William and Harry’s ancestry back to Rollo the Viking for the amusement of some visiting British computer experts. Even then I could tell there were glaring inaccuracies in Royal Ancestors of Some L.D.S. Families. My firm view about discarding the disproven and waiting on the unproven was rapidly forming in every possible way. I had the subsequent opportunity to write a negative review of still another burgeoning “lost tribes” manuscript in late 2005—here’s the portion immediately applicable:

It is commonly believed that kingly genealogies with Odin on them (141-142) were merely extended upon conversion to Christianity, to make them more palatable. None of this proves or disproves Odin as a historical figure, let alone Israelitish. These adapted ancestries included Judah in order to establish the divine right of kings, in a manmade usage of scripture. The lion (143-144) could easily have been added to the Union Jack at any time, and it is highly doubtful it goes clear back through the mists of antiquity for the desired connection. Many have interpreted the sceptre of Judah (see 149-150) as having been removed shortly following Christ’s first coming; hence the scripture would already be fulfilled.

I know that on the evening of October 30, 1992 I was busily copying Merovingian—that is, predecessors to Charlemagne’s dynasty—lines from available library books and encyclopedias. (I was severely disappointed in my father in later years when I learned that he’d disposed of that set of encyclopedias, saying that they were all on CDs or online these days. It’s been my observation that practically everyone, myself included, is simply accessing them less, glancing at knowledge in a more sporadic and shallow fashion.) One of my distant French relatives who is busily tracing every conceivable branch of the Roque ancestry had the good sense to stop short with a mere statement that one family appears in some records to have a tie to the Merovingians. One will recall that in Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, he repeats the sensational assertion that this dynasty was descended from Christ. Somehow he takes all of the fun out of being a descendant of Jesus Christ when everything else he has to say and write about it denies His divinity. ;-)

When I read Brown’s book, I found it dangerous in that it was a brilliant piece of engaging fiction (and fiction in its truest sense), laden with some serious attacks on organized religion. Its very popularity serves it well, spreading his additional ideology. I only brought one quote—a dialogue—out of it, saved in my “Satan’s quotes” category:

"There's an enormous difference between hypothetically discussing an alternate history of Christ, and . . ." He paused.

"And what?"

"And presenting to the world thousands of ancient documents as scientific evidence that the New Testament is false testimony."

"But you told me the New Testament is based on fabrications."

Langdon smiled. "Sophie, every faith in the world is based on fabrication. That is the definition of faith—acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove. Every religion describes God through metaphor, allegory, and exaggeration, from the early Egyptians through modern Sunday school. Metaphors are a way to help our minds process the unprocessible. The problems arise when we begin to believe literally in our own metaphors." (Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code [New York: Doubleday, 2003], 341-342)

Can you sense the danger in our society? Did you see that sweeping rejection of all faith, instead of at the very least a tolerant gesture toward people believing in some sort of good? How about the subtle insertion of the word “imagine” in his definition of faith?

And now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true. (Alma 32:21, emphasis added; see Romans 8:24 and, naturally, Hebrews 11:1-3 with another emphasis upon the JST and verse 2)

A generation ago we largely relegated the Savior to a position of little personal relevance. At times it was nice to quote a few one-liners from Him in a peace-loving fashion, but everything else was terribly inconvenient to the lifestyle of choice. Today we seek to dispose of Him entirely. Yes, God requires faith, and His enemies attack the very fact that He refuses to intervene sufficiently as to remove all possibility of exercising faith upon this mortal sphere. Wicked men always do tempt God, with their “If thou be the son of God,” do this (see Matthew 4, Alma 30:48-53)... And then they are surprised when at great length He smites them!

Jesus Christ did not deal in mere metaphors, either, but tangible practices and the consummate real sacrifice. Intelligent people with a good command of language and whose minds can spew forth an array of historical trivia and other mumbo jumbo so rapidly that the layman swallows it up unquestioningly have often failed to grasp that point about external and internal evidences. The externals sometimes contradict each other, or can be made to appear in whatever way the next shyster can pawn it off on the gullible, but the internal witness is undeniable. A testimony solely based on external things, even when perfectly acceptable, will eventually fall without the internal foundation.

The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:
And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. (Romans 8:16-17)

Many years before the emergence of this recent rash of “sangreal” literature I talked with my best friend about the possibility of descendants of Christ. My conclusion then, as it ever will be, is not to concern myself so much about that as whether we choose to be His spiritually begotten sons and daughters (Mosiah 5:7; Ether 3:14; John 1:12-13 with D&C 39:4-6). He does not approve of superiority complexes among those who are equally children of God—He is more embracing than that. In fact, He has made His own provisions for those who cannot currently “see him as he is” (1 John 3:2: and, as this scripture really means, NONE of us can fully and absolutely accept Him in this life). Mosiah 15 makes it clear that Christ’s seed are all those who accept the prophets and come unto Him for the remission of their sins. I turn to President Harold B. Lee’s timely testimony:

Fifty years ago or more, when I was a missionary, our greatest responsibility was to defend the great truth that the Prophet Joseph Smith was divinely called and inspired and that the Book of Mormon was indeed the word of God. But even at that time there were unmistakable evidences that there was coming into the religious world actually a question about the Bible and about the divine calling of the Master, Himself. Now fifty years later, our greatest responsibility and anxiety is to defend the divine mission of our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, for all about us, even among those who claim to be professors of the Christian faith, [we find many who] are not willing to stand squarely in defense of the great truth that our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, was indeed the Son of God. (The Teachings of Harold B. Lee, 11)


Testimony may be defined simply as divine revelation to the man of faith. The psalmist echoes the same thought: “. . . the testimony of the Lord is sure. . . .” (Psalm 19:7.) Paul, the apostle, declared “. . . no man can say [or know] that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.” (1 Corinthians 12:3.) The prophets have further taught that if you were to “ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moroni 10:4-5.) . . .

God lives! Jesus is the Savior of this world! The gospel of Jesus Christ as contained in fulness in the ancient and modern scriptures is true! These things I know by the witness of the Spirit to my spirit. . . .

Not many have seen the Savior face to face here in mortality, but there is no one of us who has been blessed to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost after baptism but that may have a perfect assurance of His existence as though we had seen. Indeed, if we have faith in the reality of His existence even though we have not seen, as the Master implied in His statement to Thomas, even greater is the blessing to those who “have not seen, and yet have believed” (John 20:29), for “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). Although not seeing, yet believing, we rejoice with joy unspeakable in receiving the end of our faith, even the salvation of our souls (see 1 Peter 1:8-9). . . .

Anyone who has had a testimony, then, has enjoyed the gift of prophecy, he’s had the spirit of revelation. He has had the gift by which the prophets have been able to speak things pertaining to their responsibilities. (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Harold B. Lee, 38-40)

To which I would be a poor excuse for a Christian disciple if I did not add my own certain testimony, before the world if need be, that I too know that Jesus Christ lives. Not only does He live, but He did what He said He was here to do. We may all escape the awful consequences of sin—not by denying it, but by regretting it and asking Him to free us from all desires to sin any more, and then actively improving our lives (and others’) in constant alignment with His teachings. Nor is repentance a one-time event, or reserved strictly for the “serious” trespasses of God’s law.

I’m going to conclude by resumption of narrative about my own family....

Records genuinely demonstrate that these Lewises I’ve spoken of would make me a distant cousin, via several connections at various points along the line overseas in Wales, to Charles W. Penrose, who served in the First Presidency with President Joseph F. Smith, who once called Penrose his “scriptorian.” As a concession to all my recent talk about dialogue, I enjoy President Penrose’s response to an overtly antagonistic question on intertwined themes:

Question 13: Should there be more than one temple in use at the same time and why? Please give Biblical evidence.

Answer: Yes. There should be as many temples as may be needed for the immense labors in behalf of the dead, for the hearts of the children who have received of the spirit of Elijah are turned to their deceased ancestors, and the hearts of the fathers are turned to their children who can act as saviors for them upon Mount Zion, without whom they cannot “be made perfect,” and there are millions and millions who are awaiting their redemption. It would not matter if there was not Biblical reference or allusion to this magnificent subject, any more than there is to the colonization of Australia, or the Constitution of the United States. Some folks ought to hunt through the Bible for their own names to be sure they are alive. But let our inquirer read Malachi 4:5, 6; Heb. 11:39, 40; I Peter 3:18-22; I Cor. 15:29; Rom. 11:26; Philip 2:10, 11; Rev. 20:14, etc. (Improvement Era, Sep. 1912, 1045)

If his tone is considered slightly acrid, as people have often mistaken prophets’ reactions to similar questions, we must realize how very well they discern either: (a) latent hostility, or (b) inexcusably extreme ignorance. The wise operate on similar principles. That reminds me of a dialogue cut short, as related by Elie Wiesel:

One evening one of the future rabbis ran into him in the elevator. He had an appointment for a final exam. ([Saul] Lieberman's exams usually took place late at night.) On the elevator they chatted about this and that, then walked to the door of Lieberman's office, where the professor said, "Good night."

"But what about the exam?" the student stammered.

"Knowledge may take a long time to measure," Lieberman replied, "but ignorance does not." Usually he was more merciful. (All Rivers Run to the Sea: Memoirs [New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1996], 399)

Oh, yeah! I promised to wrap up.... As matters develop, it appears I’m descended from the man who left a quaint grave marker in Virginia:

Here lieth interred the body of JOHN LEWIS Born in Monmouth Shire died the 21st of August 1657 aged 63 years

The Anagram of his Name
I Shew no ill

One will readily recall that the doubled l would be typical to a Welshman, and the i in the stead of j quite in keeping with the times. (I also remember a near-fatal misstep in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, pertaining to this very thing.)

This also reminds me of Thomas More’s remark, reminiscent of some of Joseph Smith’s final thoughts, as a man with a conscience void of offense towards God or man: “I do nobody harm, I say none harm, I think none harm, but wish everybody good. And if this be not enough to keep a man alive in good faith I long not to live” (Elizabeth Frances Rogers, ed., St. Thomas More: Selected Letters [New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1961], 247-248). While we’re on such subjects, it’s convenient to share his inscription with interesting implications that the world—in view of abuses—refuses to consider, misinterpreting, for instance, a response of Jesus that President Penrose and Talmage and others have explained thoroughly. (This was misconstrued to such an extent that the great-grandmother of whom I’ve spoken frequently today was conned by her preacher into the belief that she would not be with her husband in heaven, to whom she’d been so deeply devoted in this world—well, now she knows he was wrong):

My beloved wife, Jane, lies here. I, Thomas More, intend that this same tomb shall be Alice’s and mine, too. One of these ladies, my wife in the days of my youth, has made me father of a son and three daughters; the other has been as devoted to her stepchildren (a rare attainment in a stepmother) as very few mothers are to their own children. The one lived out her life with me, and the other still lives with me on such terms that I cannot decide whether I did love the one or do love the other more. O, how happily we could have lived all three together if fate and mortality permitted. Well, I pray that the grave, that heaven, will bring us together. Thus death will give what life could not. (Ibid., 182-183)

So with thoughts of Jesus Christ, love, family, and a glorious future in mind, I bid you good night.