196
PARTISAN REVIEW
My aunt was reassured and almost-so they hoped at the time–
cured. After more songs had been sung and several plates of
cookies had been emptied, everyone was tired and went to bed. And,
imagine, my aunt slept without sedatives. The two nurses were
dismissed, the doctors shrugged their shoulders, and everything
seemed in order. My aunt ate again, drank again, was once more
kind and amiable.
But the following evening at twilight, when my uncle was
reading his newspaper beside his wife under the tree, she suddenly
touched
him
gently on the arm and said: "Now we will call the
children for the celebration. I think it's time." My uncle a9.mitted
to us later that he was startled, but he got up and hastily summoned
his children and grandchildren and dispatched a messenger for the
minister. The latter appeared, somewhat distraught and amazed;
the candles were lighted, the gnomes hammered away, the angel
whispered, there was singing and eating- and everything seemed
in order.
Now all vegetation is subject to certain biological laws, and fir
trees tom from the soil have a well-known tendency to wilt and lose
their needles, especially if they are kept in a warm room, and in my
uncle's house it was warm. The life of the silver fir is somewhat
longer than that of the common variety, as the well-known work
Abies Vulgaris and Abies Nobilis
by Doctor Hergenring has shown.
But even the life of the silver fir is not unlimited.
As
Carnival
approached
it
became clear that my aunt would have to be pre–
pared for a new sorrow: the tree was rapidly losing its needles, and
at the evening singing a slight frown appeared on her forehead. On
the advice of ,a really outstanding psychologist an attempt was
made in light, casual conversation to warn her of the possible end
of the Christmas season, especially as the trees outside were now
covered with leaves, which is generally taken as a sign of approaching
spring whereas in our latitudes the word Christmas connotes wintry
scenes. My resourceful uncle proposed one evening that the songs
"All the birds are now assembled" and "Come, lovely May" should
be sung, but at the first verse of the former such a scowl appeared
on my aunt's face that the singers quickly broke off and intoned
"0 Tannenbaum." Three days later my cousin Johannes was in-
