The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1871-11-17

pig, fraDtlcally squeallng, seemed II
forty places at once; issuing at last
as by a miracle unharmed from
among the horses feet, he turned
his head homeward. Flushed with
victory but still afraid of losing
sight of him, on flew the pursuing
party, on, on, to see him at last enter
our own gate. To surround and
chase him up to his little house was
the work Of iastant; as he stood
painting and at bay, Bobby seized
him by the leg, opened the door and
thrust him in, and there lay onr ot0r
pig fast asleep.
Loud was the family laugh over
the unfortunate "hunt," and great
was my poor aunt's modification,
and though she sought again the
shade and seclusion of the library,
like Francesca, "that day she read
no more"-"Crowns" seeming too
distant, Crosses too painfully pres
ent, "The publicity, toe" she Whis-
pered family, when my mother jok-
ingly alluded to it.
Though frequently a guest at my
fathers, and always passing the sum-
mers among us, my aunt was house.
keeper, and with one faithful colored
woman, Hannah like her mistress,
much given to hospitality, took an
especial pleasure in entertaining
nephews and nieces, and other young
people. Her tea parties became IA
nous, and like the old lady of Tillie-
tudlem a great part Of her life was
spent in preparing for and recover
ing from these occasions. To see
her at the head of her table, in her
diaphanous cap and handkerchief
(within whose clear folds some tea
rose or other delicate flower was al
ways nestling), her face beaming
with hospitality, was to gaze upon a
pleasant picture.
The feast, invaribly crowned with
flowers, was of course unique. The
little tray with it's snowy, fringed
napkin and quaint group of old-fash
ioned silver and china, the light gol-
den mullins, such as were met with
nowhere else, soft wah1es, flannel
cakes, white honey in its pearly
cells, fragrantly suggestive of wild
flowers, the delicious butter
"churned," as Katie declared, sin
Arcadia" the cream, the rich, old
fashioned preserves, the ample sill
yer basket with its heaped- up store
of plum, pound, and sponge cakes
all made the occasion most enjoya-
BILE to US youngsters. We were wont !
to say, in after years, that at brewing /
and baking Hannah was witch, her
craft among the "lost arts" and in
dignantly rejected all feeble home
limitations as worthless or base.
Those happy gatherings-their
very memory seems blest; young
and loving hearts, clustering around |
one most loving of all, rejoicing in
the warmth of the outward shining
of that inward grace ofreal and gen
uine and living hospitality, so rarely |
found, but which all who entered |
that quiet home-the Doves Nest" |
AS some one called it, felt.
Aunt Betsy was a great Bible rea-
der, and to this study--the knowl-
edge from her youth of the sacred .
Scriptures-she attributed much of
the calmness and inward tranquility
which had marked her not altOgeth-
er uneve. tful life. When any one
sought her advice-and many |
''came" to that quiet freside-she I
was always solicitous to counsel !
them according to the Scriptures,
little worldly wisdom or sophistry
but much simple godliness lying in
her words. Much oil did she drop,
and many small incident storms did
she still, her own walk, meanwhile,
being a most humble and careful
one. In the religious society of
which she was a member, though
free from many of its peeuliarities,
she was accounted in quaint phrase
"a most weighty and concerned
friend"
Every morning after breakfast it
was the custom to "read chapter"
and to this simple service all her
household gathered. Hannah, with
swarthy brow and brilliant turban,
mouth open, and every feature ex-
panded to drink in the absorbing
narrative, was a devOut listener.
The drama of the creation, the fight
of Hagar, the miracles in Egypt, the
piercing midnight cry, the Staying
of Goliah by the ruddy shepherd
lad, each by turns enchained her
simple soul, and with sigh of re-
leased attention at the end, she
would pronounce it mighty good"
Hannah and one or two ''iittle ones"
formed my aunt's usual audience,
the same child-like spirit seeming to
possess them all.
One lovely June morning, at New
port, we.sat together in the old fam
iliar room for the last time, my aunt
in low roeking-chair by the open
window, inhaling the delicious fra
GRANGE of climbing honeysuckle,
and holding little Katie by the hand.
Ny mother, Hannah and myself
Aunt Betsy had been ailing forsome
time, and though not sick, was now
quite feeble. As 1 went into her
room that morning was struck by
her extreme paleness and peculiar
look about the eyes, a sort of spirit
ualized expression, which gave me
sudden pang. She greeted US all
cheerfully and affectionately, and
presently told Hannah to hand her
The Bible. My mother feared the
exertion would be too much for her,