Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1869-04-29

she visited no one in the village and
spoke to none, yet she knew the most se>
cret affairs which took place in the vil-
lage. She inserred it from the manner in
which people met each other, by q word
here and there. Because this appeared
wonderful she become feared and shunn-
ed. She liked to describe herself In the
current phrase as an ''ancient woman"
and yet she was extremely :active. The
whole year round she ate q few juniper
berries. and people said that IL was this
that made her brisk, and that they could
not see her sixty-six years. Even the
fact Of her being in her two skies, as
people said, brought her according to an
old play ON the words into the category
Of witches. although people did not really
believe that she was one. They said that
she often milked her black goat for more
than an hour, and ii gave An abundance of
milk, but that she could only draw milk
from the udders of the cows Of those
caom she hated; and that she had cast an
evil eye on the cattle of the farmer Of
Rodel. Further, that she raised such .
large flock Of chickens, passed also for
witchery; where did she get the food for
them. and to whom could she sell her
eggs and chickens? II was true that
they often saw her in summer gathering
May>chafers, grasshpppers, and all kinds
ofworms, and gliding onlmoonless nights
over the bitches Ike q will ll-o.the,wisp;
she carried q torch, and muttering all the
time, collected the grubs which crept out
at dark. Yes, they even said that she
held strange converse during the winter
nights with her chickens and goats, which
were kept in the house during the winter
A wild host of stories of witches and
ghosts which had been banished by edu-
cation came back again, and centered ON
Black Marann
Amrei was often frightened in the long
quiet winter nights rs she sat spinning by
Msrann. .hea ing nothing but an occasional
cluck Of a sleeping chicken or the blat Of
sleeping goat; and the rapidity with
which Marann spun appeared like magic
to her. "Yet,' she said on one occasion:
81 think my John helps me in my spin>
ming" Yet this winter she complained
for the first time, that she could not think
exclusively about her son. She reproach
ed herself for this, and said. that she was
bad mother, and complained that her
sons features were gradually becoming
fainter and fainter, and that she was for
getting what lie had done at such and
snoh times, how he had wept anS laugh
ed and sung, how he Lad climbed up the
trees and leaped into the dicA.
1T Is TERRIBLE" she said, show these
things gradually vanish from my mind, sc
that cannot exactly rcccollect them. as
they occurred" And she would relate to
Amrei. with an apperAnt effort, every,
thing about him, even the most trivial mat
tiers. 1t was very disagreablc to Amrci,
to hear dead man always spoken of as {
he were alive. And then Narsnh would
complain: ut is sinful that l cannot even
weep any more for my son. have heard
It said that you can weep FOR lost one as
long as he lives, and until he has perished-
If he has returned to dust again the weep
ing ceases. But no, that cannot he, that
dare not be, my John cannot be dead; oh,
Lord thou can'st not afflict me so, or /
should reproach thee with My beggarly
lot. There at my door death stands
there Is the pond, and In It / can drown
myself like a blind dog. end that shall
happen II am thus afflicted; but no, par>
don me, thou good Lord, for being op>
posed to thy will, and only once open The
door, and let my John enter. Oh, what
joy! Come. sit down here, John. Tell
me nothing, wish to know nothing, for
you are here. and that is happiness. The
long, long years have only been moments.
What do l care where you have wandered.
Where You have been was not with you,
and now yo are here: / never will let go
your hand again until it is cold. Oh,
Amrei, my John must wait until you are
grown up; say nothing more. Why do
you not speak7"
Amrei felt as If chokcd. 1t seemed to
her that the dead man stood there like an
upon her lips rested the se>
cret, and she could disclose il, and the
roof would fall in and all would be bur-
led. .sn .
Marann was often talkative in another
mood, although 1t was always in the same
vein, the remembrance Of her son. II
seemed hard to Amrei that the order of
life should DO unequal. Why does the
child die, for whom the mother waits %
trembling, with her whole soul. while II
and my DAai, deserted, would gladly
grasp the hand ola mother, but that hand
has become dust? 80
1t was gloomy realm into which this
child nightly wandered, and she knew no
other way to relieve the perplexity.of her
mind than to softly repeat the mullipllca>
ton talsly.
On Saturday evenings Msrans was es
pecially prone to relate her stories. From
an old superstition she never spun on
evening, bsH she always knitted
then, and when she had story TO tell
she first unwound large portion of the
akein, in order not to be stopped, and
then she narrated straight on, without in
terruption.
My child, she often eoncatled. ''fe-
mark this. that you are recluse, He
who wishes to live evenly on ought to live
entirely alone, oueht to love 10 one and
desire nothing Of any one: you know who
Is tho fortunate person? He who needs
nothing but what he finds In himself. And
who is unfortunate one? He who expects
from others. He sits and waits
FOR the hands that belong to another, and