At the Homeys’ house across the
Big Road from the end of our lane. I
picked up Mittic. who was waiting for
me. It took only minutes to reach Aunt
Jane's house, an unpaintcd. two-
roomed building with a loft, or attic. A
few yards away stood the log kitchen,
which was chinked with clay.
When I stopped the car. Mittic. who
was a mother and much older than I.
appeared to be as jittery as I felt.
"I'm glad to do this for Aunt Jane."
she said, "but being around the dead
always makes me feel queasy."
I did not say anything, but I was glad
that I had not eaten anything for break¬
fast. Even the milk that I had drunk
was beginning to knot in my stomach.
We walked up the two steps that we
knew led to Aunt Jane's bedroom.
Immediately we saw the white sheet
spread over the bed. concealing a
lumpy heap. We tip-toed up to the head
of the bed and drew back the sheet
gingerly. There, lying on her right side,
with her gray head on two high pillows,
was Aunt Jane. Her right arm encircled
her neck and her right hand lay on her
left shoulder, her posture suggesting
that she lay in a peaceful sleep.
We pulled the sheet gently back over
her head and stood there a moment,
glancing around the room. We saw that
the glass-covered pictures had been
turned to face the walls. The mirror on
the bureau had been covered with a
white cloth. The clock on the mantel
was still, its hands indicating ten to five
o'clock.
"Why all this?" I whispered to Mit¬
tic. pointing to the pictures and the
mirror.
"I have heard." Mittie said in a soft
voice, "that some people believe if a
person sees his reflection in a mirror in
the room where a dead person lies, he
will die within the year."
"Well." I said. "I'm glad all the
glass is covered, aren't you?"
"As for the clock." Mittie said, ig¬
noring my question, "that is done to
set the time of the person's death."
We then looked around to see if any
cleaning needed to be done. The
broom, made of straw wrung from the
broomsage fields thereabout and
bound tightly with a string made from a
strip of cloth, stood by the clean-swept
hearth. The mantel and bureau top.
both containing bric-a-brac and
crocheted doilies neatly arranged,
were dustless.
Since we saw nothing to do. we sat
down in the bedroom chairs, comfort¬
able pieces with split-oak bottoms. As
we sat. the morning’s heal brought in
the flies through the screcnless doors.
Time held heavy on our hands.
Mittie spoke suddenly, anxiously.
"If Aunt Jane died before five this
morning." she said, "she will be stiff
before the people get here. If they
don’t come soon." She looked at me
with frightened eyes. "I guess we
should straighten her out."
"1 guess so." I gulped.
But neither of us made a move. We
sat silently a few minutes longer. I
began to recall the beautiful chocolate
cakes Aunt Jane used to help Mama
make for Commencement Day dinner.
1 remembered how I. when she had sat
down to rest, loved to run my fingers
through the deep waves on either side
of the middle part in her gray hair. I
recalled how she had nursed my
sister-in-law when her baby was bom.
but refused to sweep under the bed for
"Spirits"
of 1776
Did Revolutionary sol¬
diers carry it in flasks
like this?
A flask that was carried in the Rev¬
olutionary War by a soldier named
Smothers, from North Carolina, is still
in perfect condition. It now belongs to
adcsccndant of the soldier’s, who lives
at Paducah. Kentucky. The flask is
ceramic and highly glazed, and is dark
brown in color. It holds about a pint of
liquid, which rules out the idea that it
was a canteen, as first was thought by
the present owner. Canteens are
somewhat larger and usually made of
metal, probably pewter.
The closest, in appearance, to this
particular flask is one that is listed in an
antiques publication as a “ring flask"
from Germany, called Sieburg stone¬
ware. and made in the sixteenth cen¬
tury. This Sieburg flask was footed so
that it stood, and it had a larger hole in
the center. The Smothers flask is
thought to be English, date unknown.
In the painting of Washington re¬
viewing his troops at Valley Forge, by
William L. Trego, there is a soldier
with a bandaged head, center fore¬
ground. who is carrying an object that
fear that the baby would have thrash.
My reveries were interrupted by Mil¬
lie,
"We will just have to do some¬
thing." she was saying.
We both arose. She pulled the sheet
back.
"I just don’t believe 1 can bring my¬
self to touch her." she said. "I loved
her dearly, but I just can't touch adead
body."
I felt the same way. but said nothing.
"Let's take hold of the pillows."
Mittic said, "and pull them from under
her head. That will help some."
Both of us took a hold on a pillow
and gave a sudden jerk. Aunt Jane's
body rolled over on its back. Her
mouth fell wide open. Her legs spread
far apart.
We were both so frightened at mak¬
ing what we thought were bad matters
worse that nervous hysteria caused us
(Continued on page 42)
looks strikingly like the Smothers
flask. It is hanging just below his can¬
teen. which is larger. The object is
blurred as from the reflection of light
on a highly glazed object, and it does
seem to have a beveled circle in the
center— but if it has a hole in the center
it is not visible in so small a picture.
It is a staled fact that sometimes a
gill of rum was issued to the soldiers in
V
Soe alto the pomimg ot Woihmgion't noopi by
Tfcgo. . . .
the Revolutionary War before they
marched oil to battle. This warmed
both spirit and body and brought forth
a song from the parched lips of the
footsore Continental. But a gill is only
about half-a-cup — not much for a long
march through inclement weather— so
perhaps many were able to bring along
an extra supply in a flask. — Dora
Buckamn. O' Fallon. 111.
THE STATE. JULY 1976
15
