Ardtaraig

despite every¬thing that could be done, the end came swiftly. It was terrible grief to her family, and when her brother Alick, came to us to tell the sad news, he utterly broke down, crying in his anguish, “We never expected this, we never expected this, we thought God was too kind!” Poor fellow, the words were wrung from him! I remember being taken to the house of mourning. Aunt Maggie led me by the hand, and said, “You are going to see Cammie once more. Now, dear, be prepared, she is very pale – like that” touching a white-painted door – “but don’t be frightened, be a good girl.” The coffin lay on high supports, so a chair was brought. I was lifted up, and saw Death for the first time. Never could it have worn a fairer aspect. Lovely, was the waxen face, and long I gazed, until they took me away. The sight made a profound impression. I can see it yet – indeed, I am living over again everything I am writing about. Then came the funeral and a lot of people; blackness and gloom everywhere, excepting one white plume on the hearse – how different would it have been today! At that time people really put on mourning; even I, a little child, wore crape and “weepers,” folded bands of muslin round the wrists, now only allowed to widows in, their early “weeds.” On this sad day Aunt Brown sat in a small room, spent with grief, but wonderfully calm. I heard her say, as if to herself, “She is not dead – this is her marriage-day, she is married – married to the Lamb!”
At this time Georgie, the younger sister, was about fifteen. The difference in age was enough to prevent her from quite filling her sister’s place, but apart from this, Georgie had within herself the germs of a very peculiar character. She was neither easy to manage nor easy to under¬stand. Yet she was bright, amusing, satirical at times, and could be positively fascinating when she liked. I may here say that as I grew up she became one of the few people I have deeply loved, and yet looking back over the years that have parted us, I am puzzled to know how much – if at all – she loved me in return. There were times when it seemed as if she did – a little – or it might be much, certainly I can never absolutely know. At these times there would be bursts of confidence, to which I listened silently, for sympathy put into words was a thing she could never stand. To the end, even when disciplined by sorrow, there were engrained in her nature traits indescribable, and not to be controlled. Aunt Brown had a difficult task to face, but she triumphed, and no one could doubt that she had comfort and happiness in her children.
It is now time to say good-bye to the small house in New City Road. I am sure it was never mentioned in story before, and it must long since have been swept away to make room for more remunerative buildings. It was there that Aunt Brown sat for her portrait to Norman Macbeth, R.S.A.; a fairly good likeness, but the expression by no means conveys the strength of character possessed by the original; still, for her descendants, it is worthy of preservation. It used to hang above Cammie’s piano, an old square Broadwood, to which dear Georgie desperately clung, long after it had ceased to be tuneful. It had to go at last, as all such treasures must. Then there came a house in Buccleuch Street (Brougham Street was before my day), and from Buccleuch Street Cousin Duncan Brown went to Trinidad, in poor health, sadly uncertain if he would ever return; but his future had a brighter side to it than the anxious mother then dared to hope for. Next came Colin Brown’s first marriage, and the removal of the family to Edinburgh, in order that Alick, the youngest son, should enter the New College, there to prepare for entering the ministry, a step on which (although he had under¬gone some years’ business training), his heart was still set. I never saw the Edinburgh home. There Aunt Brown, after a year or more of painful illness, died, with dear Aunt Maggie on the spot to smooth the sufferer’s pillow, and impart comfort to the sorrowing ones who were left behind. Aunt Brown was just sixty-four when she died, and it was the first break amongst the seven sisters. She bore her illness, as she did all her trials with great courage. There was much suppressed strength about this aunt, so that few suspected how strong she really was.
After some years, Cousin Alick became minister of Kingston Free Church, Glasgow. At that time we lived within easy walking distance of Kingston Church; therefore we joined the congregation, and it was from my cousin’s hands that I, received my first communion “token.” This was a custom universal