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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 1"

"
"There must be the best of it."
"Yes; I allow that. Well, while they spoke--it was a wonderfully clear
and connected dream: I never had one like it for that, or for anything
else--they were clearing away the earth and stones from the top of my
coffin. And I lay trembling and expecting to be looked at, like a thing in
a box as I was, every moment. But they lifted me, coffin and all, out of
the grave, for I felt the motion of it up. Then they set it down, and I
heard them taking the lid off. But after the lid was off, it did not seem
to make much difference to me. I could not open my eyes. I saw no light,
and felt no wind blowing upon me. But I heard whispering about me. Then I
felt warm, soft hands washing my face, and then I felt wafts of wind coming
on my face, and thought they came from the waving of wings. And when they
had washed my eyes, the air came upon them so sweet and cool! and I opened
them, I thought, and here I was lying on this couch, with butterflies and
bees flitting and buzzing about me, the brook singing somewhere near me,
and a lark up in the sky. But there were no angels--only plenty of light
and wind and living creatures.


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