The Lexington dispatch. [volume] (Lexington, South Carolina) 1870-1917, 1896-03-18
Obituary Of Miss Harriet K:n!cch
Simmons.

31st January, 1896, MISS HarTlet
Kinloch Simmons, third daughter OF
the late Dr.. Thomas Hayne Simmons,
in the seventy sixthyear of her age.
The deceased was a lady Of rare
mental attainments, combined with
unusual personal attractions and
charm of manner. She inherited
largely the sterling traits OF the race
of patriots from whom she sprung.
Her great grand father was the Ii
mented Martyr Hayne, whose wife,
for whom the Martyr took the risk
of the sad fate which befell him. also
sprung from the sterling Revolution
ary hero of the Islands of Carolina,
DR.. VIM. Hutson. She was one OF
the few, perhaps the only one, OF the
great grand daughters of Col. Isaac
Hayne, living in January, 1896. But
over and above her mental and per
sonal endowments her Christian
graces were most conspicuous. Her
mothers Bible was the dearest book
on earth to her, and she priced Its
golden rules and precepts, above
rubies. She cherished it as the only
casket, within which is contained the
pearl of great price. She was a
devout communicant of the Episcopal
church, and by her life and converse,
ton in the quiet walks in which she
dwelt, outside the gay circles Of
society, she let her light shine to
benefit those friends and acquaint-
ance who enjoyed her friendship
Therefore, we mourn not beside hel
grave as those who have no hope.
She shall not lie there long. She is
planted in the likeness of Chrst's
death, that she may rise with Christ
to the resurrection of eternal life.
Should we not praise rather than
mourn, when one we love, who is
full of days and full Of grace, sets
like the sun behind the horizon of
time
why weep ye then for her, who having
won
The bound of mans appointed years, at
last
Lies blessings all enjoyed, life's labors
done
Serenely to her final rest has passed;
While the soft memory Of her virtues,
yet
Lingers like twilight hues, when the
bright sun is SET.
The writer is lifted into the lonely
observatory and deserted ha l7ays Of
memory and finds himself with the
deceased in scenes long past away
How soft the lights, how tender the
shadows in which that picture lies!
How like the silver notes ct Curfew
bells across the silence Of years,
comes the tones it fing'st. The
voiceIess counsels that lock through
the visionary eyes of our departed
ones, steal with resistless power into
our hearts and sweep the clouds
away and show US visions of that
real life beyond. What means that
dim, far away. look that often stamps
it's image on the face of the aged?
1t is not the mere fading of interest
in the drama of life, a deafness to
the cry of the woes and the music ii
represents. No, indeed, it is rather
a reflection of the vision of that f, r
brighter light and more enchantil 6
music from the realms of the great
beyond. But I pause, for
Out on the sea there are b!llows
That never can break on the beach,
SO in the soul there are feelings
That never can float in:o speech"
So, then, as the soughing of your
pines are breathing sad requiem
over her newly made grave, I crave
the privilege of weeping a tear with
a sigh of lament by the side Of her
bier.
'And we who wait upon the stand
To watch the loved receding face
Aud see the pale aud shadowy hand
Wave US onward and upward in the race"
are comforted and strengthened
whilst We are waiting through the
long and dreary night, and watching
mid the gathering shadows
For the mornings promised light"
T. S. ARTHUR.
Batesburg Locals.