AMONG THE TRAN SYLVAN IAN SAXONS. 261 



away," he says, when he realizes his situation " take it away, and keep 

 it carefully for the next person who falls ill. It is a pity to waste it 

 on me, for I feel that my time has come, and nothing can do me any 

 more good. Send for the preacher, that I may make my peace with 

 God." 



The last dispositions as to house and property have been made in 

 the presence of the pastor or preacher. The house and yard are to 

 belong to the youngest son, as is the general custom among the Saxons. 

 The elder son and the daughter are to be otherwise provided for. The 

 small back-room belongs to the widow, as jointure for the rest of her 

 life ; likewise a certain proportion of grain and fruit is assured to her. 

 The exact spot of the grave is indicated, and two ducats are to be given 

 to the Herr Vater if he will undertake to preach a handsome funeral 

 oration. 



When it becomes evident that the last death-struggle is approach- 

 ing, the mattress is withdrawn from under the dying man, for, as every 

 one knows, he will expire more gently if lying on straw. 



Scarcely has the breath left his body than all the last clothes he 

 has worn are taken off and given to a gypsy. The corpse is washed 

 and shaved, and dressed in bridal attire the self-same clothes which 

 forty years previously he had donned on his wedding morning, and 

 which ever since have been lying carefully folded by, and strewed 

 with sprigs of lavender, in the large Truhe (bunker), waiting for the 

 day when their turn must come round again. 



A snowy sheet spread over a layer of wood-shavings is the resting- 

 place of the body when it is laid in the coffin ; for the head, a little 

 pillow stuffed with dried flowers and aromatic herbs, which in most 

 houses are kept ready prepared for this contingency. 



An hour before the funeral, the bell begins to toll the Seelenpuls 

 (soul's pulse), as it is called ; but the sexton is careful to pause in the 

 ringing when the clock is about to strike, for " if the hour should strike 

 into the bell," another death will be the consequence. 



Standing before the open grave, the mourners give vent to their 

 grief, which, even when true and heart-felt, is often expressed with such 

 quaint realism as to provoke a smile. 



" My dearest husband," wails the disconsolate widow, " why hast 

 thou gone away ? I had need of thee to look after the farm, and 

 there was plenty room for thee at our fireside. My God, is it right 

 of thee thus to take my support away ? On whom shall I now 

 lean ? " 



The children near the dead mother: "Mother, mother, who will 

 care for us now ? Shall we live within strange doors ? " 



A mother bexoailing her only son : "O God, thou hast had no pity. 

 Even the emperor did not take my son to be a soldier. Thou art less 

 merciful than the emperor ! " 



Another mother weeping over tioo dead children exclaims : " What 



