“There she lay in the parlor, her face as calm as if she had never known the harshness of brutal guardians, the agony of poison, the terrible pangs of dissolution. Death had at last given her peace, the peace which passeth understanding.”
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“There she lay in the parlor, her face as calm as if she had never known the harshness of brutal guardians, the agony of poison, the terrible pangs of dissolution. Death had at last given her peace, the peace which passeth understanding.”
July 28, 1902, a Monday evening. Clarence Adams was driving home from Chester village when two men stopped his wagon. He couldn't make out their faces but one of them had a shotgun. They wanted money, they said, or they'd shoot.
These Dark Mountains
“There she lay in the parlor, her face as calm as if she had never known the harshness of brutal guardians, the agony of poison, the terrible pangs of dissolution. Death had at last given her peace, the peace which passeth understanding.”
