Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-09-07

en- the lips moved in a form of blessing
and so lightly that we heard only the hum
ming of the flies that whirred about the
flame of the lamp and the feeble groanng
from the bed, whose curtains hid the sick
man. Then she kissed us on the forehead,
and we timidly drew her thin hand to our
lips. with hardly audible step the old wo-
man moved TO n glass cupboard, through
whose dim panes looked forth couple of
painted coffee cups, and took from draw
er two Borsdorf apples, with which we en-
tertained ourselves while our mother, con-
strained TO sit down, began hall-audible
conversation with her;
"How goes it with you, dear auut?"
"God be thanked no worse. The terri
BILE rheumatism is obstinate, especially in
the fall, but God will help"
"Did you get little sleep last nightP'
"a little; old people do not need much
sleep. lie sleeps little too, but he bas an
appetite, God be thahkedi and the fish
have delighted him. No one cooks them
like our Betty
won't you tskea meal with us for once,
dear aunt2 You have long promised me-"
DOht NlUlts Nuti Nuil ithNt hihls
will send you rather one Of the girls in my
place tLey are sewing their eyes out
Good girls! God bless them"
There is a knock at the door. Our moth
er ii ises; we breathe more freely as we step
through the narrow door into the narrow
street. "Children," says our mother,
Aunt Guttrand is a saint in Israel"
We believed her. One worships the saints
without asking why. Our great aunt stood
remote from our childish interests; she en-
tered into our life only the length Of fish
and the weight of an apple. And even
this deprivation was forgotten as soon as in
the evening we had received our due share,
If not Of the fish, made pcrlous by its
b ones, yet of The sauce q Ia mutier.
Perhaps twenty years later 1 returned
from the university TO my home. How al
lie red and strange l found everything.
Death with his faithful servitor, cholera,
bad reaped rich harvest. My beloved
father lay yonder in the "good place." my
brothers were scattered, my lister married,
my mother lett alone. 1t was a sad meet
ing. We embraced without speaking
each spared the other. We went together TO
the burial ground, Of whose gate my moth
er had the key. Atler giving free course
TO our sorrow by my fathers grave we
walked among the gravestones, everywhere
greeting us with the familiar names Of
iIiends and aoquaintances. Beside fiat
stone, whose Hebrew inscription l could
hardly decipher, my mother stood still, and
with the tone Of one who names a friend
well known and dear, said with trembling
voice, "Aunt Guttrand.'
The memories of my childhood came
suddenly before me-the image of the aged
woman in her mysterious seclusion. In
presence Of the impenetrable mystery OF
death my heart for the first time felt an im-
pulse 10 inquire into the reason of the mys-
lie rious reverence for this "saint in Israel"
/ drew my mother into the shade of weep
ing willow which she herself had planted,
aud asked her, "What is it about Aunt
Guttrand, and your pious reverence for her
ven beyond the grave? How great this
woman must have been if soul like yours
bows itself before her!' With frighien-
ed sir my mother seemed 10 repel this COM
pa rison: "How canst ttou, child, compare
me with this martyr? To me God has Civ
en- in my children so much of happiness,
and my sorrow has been only the common
lot OF man. She was The holiest sufferer,
the heroine of meekness, The martyr of
fidelity. A sacrifice that love brings we
eas lily comprehend, because we think our
selves capable of the same. Aunt GuttrGnd
stands alone; she sacrificed herself to her
81 .li 4. 1, l. ;a
tory, because the halo of her sanclity COW
ers a blot of shame upon the good name of
our family, and one should not darken the
heart of a child with The description of hui
man errors and transgressions. But now
thou kn owest life with its lights and sba1-
ows-now l can tell thee her history with
out scruple.
"Aunt Gutlrand was the elder sister of
my mother, thy sainted grandmother.
Blessings on her memory! She had mar
ried in country town not far from the cap
ital, and we heard little of her ill her hus-
band died and she with her two daughters
moved TO this place. She had enough TO
live in comfort. She was a skilful worker
in pearls, and The girls sewed for other peo-
pie. In spite of her forty years she was
still beautiful woman, and her stately
bearing is ever in my memory.
"This was in French times, when King
Jerome held his court in our city, and
multitude of Adventures from France and
Alsace had established themselves among
us. In those days all was gayety and ex-
travag ance, and in the Neustadt one saw
going mp shops as large and handsome as
those in Frankfort Row. Two brothers,
Alaslian Jews, had built up very thriv-
ing business, and it was surprise that
drew the attention of the Community
when the elder of them was betrothed to
Aunt Guttrand. He was probably most
concerned 10 enter our family, which be-
longed not TO the richest, but TO the most
honored, of the whole community. Aunt
Guttrand, too, in her bridal veil was really
a beautiful aud queenly woman. /, as still
a maiden, danced at the wedding. My
mother-of blessed memory !-came home
from the wedding sad and shaking her
head. The extravaganza of the supper had
displeased her, and the manner of the
bridegroom bad repelled. And she had
judged, alas only too rightly. The mar
riage of our aunt was no happy one. Her
tender, gentle heart suffered under his
rudeness-ay, people even said, though
she perssently denied it, that he actually
maltreated her. His stepdaughters con-
soled themselves with their better clothes,
and that they no longer needed to work for
othersi our aunt remained simple as be-
fore. We. however, withdrew. more and
more from her house; a deep antipathy
caused us always TO treat our new uncle as
stranger.
"The French times passed away; the