National Amateur Press Association
Monthly Bundle Sample, Boxwooder 365, p.3
it was, whether it was a dream or a vision, and yet the more I think of it, I
suppose itís not beyond the realm of possibility that it was a bonafide vision.
Well, anyway, to the best of my memory, hereís the story Joshua told on that
wonderful night so many years ago.
"Well, my children, tonight Iím going to tell you a story, a true story, about
a mysterious thing that happened to me a good many years ago; actually, as I
recall, it happened on Christmas Eve, 1838. I had locked all the doors and put
out the main lamps in the manor house. The master of the house, Master John
Hamilton, and the other members of his family had gone to bed around ten oíclock,
and I suppose it was a bit before midnight when I finally got to bed. That night
I was really tired, as tired as a plow mule that had worked from first light till
dusk. I said evening prayers and then wasted no time in closing my eyes and
drifting off into that wonderful, yet mysterious, world of sleep.
"On that night I slept soundly, and before I knew Ďt, I became a central figure
in a very fascinating vision. I call it a vision because it seemed so very real,
much more so than an ordinary dream. I donít understand how such a thing could
be, but I saw myself as a boy again, a slave boy, living in a time long since
past In the vision I seemed to