San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-03-30
my dear Frederic" said my aunt, pity
inplY, as we parted.

my ucar rreucTlc, saiu ny "u"'' P''J
ingly, as we parted.
From that time each visit / paid my
aunt made me more and more melan
choly, while found the house more and
moro uncomfortable. Mrs. KS art
studies were always necessitating some
change, which she called improvement,
but which to those about her was always
a little worse than the last fancy. 1t
would be impossible as well as useless to
describe her progressive steps-if that
may be called progressive which was
always retrogressive, for it was ever to
remoter ages, to more obsolete and
comfortless styles of living, that my poor
aunt inclined.
One room in her house had always
been placed at my disposal, but the first
time occupied it after this art fever had
seized upon her was fairly confounded.
The furniture had disappeared COM
pletely. A great clumsy carved chest
did duty for the very handsome dressing
bureau; tiny plate of polished steel
replaced the cheval-glass; an attenu-
ated stand holding basin, and remind
ing one irresistibly of dentists appar-
atus, was wretched substitute for the
stationary wash-stand with its abundant
supply of Croton; while some three
legged stools passed for chairs.
Although l had long been persuaded
of the folly of unwise opposition, l
could not help demonstrating with. my
aunt this time. .,.
"At least you might have left me the
Croton, aunt" I declared, after vain
representations of my disco mfort. But
she only replied, sweetly:
"I couldn't, my dear nephew, l
couldn't. That was so horribly out of
keeping with the rest of the appoint
ments! You can't mix the centuries in
that inartistic way"
So things went on,from bad to worse,
until at last the very rugs disappeared,
and the floors were all strewn with what
my aunt called rushes, but which ig-
norantly and unbelievingly termed hay.
Then 1 congratulated myself that we
had reached a climax, and could fare no
worse; but was mistaken.
One day, on entering the parlor,I was
conscious of very disagreeable odor-
just such perfume, in fact, as one
might expect to obtain by distilling half
a dozen tenement-houses and as many
emigrant ships, and bottling the result.
soon found that this fragrance was due
to some fearfully dirty and battered
hangings, evidently a new acquisition,
which draped the walls, and made the
apartment look like veritable rag
shop.
When my aunt came down l ventured,
in the most delicate manner, to call her
attention to this unpleasant peculiarly
of her new possession, and to ask If a
little fumigation might not be advisable.
Such look as she gave me! Then she
said, severely:
"Frederic, those hangings are inval-
liable. They are so old that their age is
involved in the mists of antiquity. 1t
is, however, probable that they were at
one time in the possession of William
the Conqueror, for here in this corner
YOU can see the remains of his mono-
gram. Look, here is part of the W and
one curve of the c." and my aunt lifted
one end of the worn and faded fabric,
with the tenderest care imaginable, and
held it up for my inspection.
"Yes, yes, see. Remarkably dis
tinct," answered, shrinking from near
err contact. "Of course they are great
prize, an uncommon treasure; but-as
they are so Uery old-don't you think,
my dear aunt, you might better have
them washed, just to dissipate the dust
of the centuries, you know?"
"No, indeed" she replied, with an
admiring glance at her hangings. "Not
for the world would allow such an out
rage. You don't seem to comprehend,
Frederic, that this very odor of which
you so unreasonably complain is the
truest evidence of their age, and to lose
it would be to lose half the proof OF their
genuineness.
| said no more. l inhaled that per-
vasive odor im silence, but l made up
my mind to see the family physician at
once, and give him hint of my aunt's
mental condition.
However, before long the obnoxious
hnnrincrS cnme dnwn in accordance