The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1877-03-14


the oaks, drinking softly, as fairies might,
the glittering dew drops nesting in the
flower cups, l missed the fresh young
voice in our church music, and the little
dairtily dressed figure in the large old
family pew. CHANGING at the pulpit, I
found stranger filling DR.. Auderly's s
place. A wild fear Of something in the
future seized my heart, and that day I'm
. sure the music must have been poor.
AS, was hurrying out Of the organ
loft, wild with fear and M easy thoughts,
some one of the choir remarked behind
me in q tone of deep sympathy
"Poor little May Auderly! Is it not
+, sad that one SO young and beautiful
should lie dying this sunlit spring morn
ing3"
I stopped to hear no more, but, stun
ned and bewildered, sought my shabby
room and locking out the cold, unfeeling
world, tainted upon the floor. When
consciousness returned, I thought how
drear my future life must henceforth be.
I believed then Cn the first great shock
that death had thus afflicted me, because
I, the plebeian musician, had no right
to look upon the purple aud golden
hangings of "young loves dream. y
That was only for the rich and high.
. Since then, years with their better,
cooler Judgment have taught me where
! to look for the silver lining to the thun-
der cloud and tonight I smile upon
even this shadow, knowing that i'll the
bright " to come all will be clear as the
sun in mid heaven.
! Stealing softly out and down the tree
darkened streets to Dr.. Auderly's man.
sion,s l entered the iron gate bordered
with tall, dark eyergreens, and sat upon
the marble base of the pretty fountain
sending up sprays of crystal water in the
silver moonlight as if there were no such
! thing in all the world as sorrow or death.
By the sound Of passionate weeping COM
. ing through the half closed parlor blinds,
; I knew all was over, and my darling
I would sleep till Christ should come to
! gather}up his jewels; and, kneeling there
amid the flowers, I watched with the
dead inside until the first faint blush of
morning painted the eastern sky.
!. Being neither friend nor associate of
the Auderlys, 1. knew not how to gain
one more look at my frozen darling; and
sitting down upon the little hard bed,
the chief attraction of my attic room,
1 wept as only Il young, lonely man can
weep when he gives up, in the full tide
of life, his last hold of love on earth. A
knock at my door aroused me, and a ser
want handed in card with the written
request that T should play the funeral
dirge of Miss Auderly, at her late resi-
dence. Thankful for even this chance, l
bowed assent, determining music should
tell the lowering angel spirit, my deep,
wild love-love that in life I dared not
breathe, but which in death became
glorifed.
Softly entering the dark room. fast
filling with weeping friends, stood for
moment, before taking my seat at the
organ, by the side of the handsome rose
wood casket and gazel for the last time
upon all that was mortal of my idol. The
little figure lay stiff and cold in its bill
lowy robe Of white. The waxen fingers
held to the silent breast pure white flow
ers, and lily slept in the dark brown
curls. Bending over her, I caught sight
of mislaid ringlet and gently replaced
it, allowing my hand to rest for All instant
ON the pale, cold brow. That was. my
farewell for earth
feel tonight the separation cannot be
long, now, for have grown old in years
"and the grasshopper is become bur
then ;" and often in the quiet Of twilight
I think I hear the dip of the boatman's
oars as he crosses the "river of death, !"
and the cool, damp mist from its banks
arises and vets the old mars brow.
All, Bell Seymour the hideous old
musician so worthless in your merry
sight has turned down leaf in his folded
life all your beauty and wealth could
never buy. 4 white finger has pointed
to me country where no fading or part
ing comes country whose maker and
builder is God and I know some day,
perchance in tie gathering twilight, !
shall pass quietly away and take my
"chamber in the silent halls of death. y
Till then feel.
There's beautiful face in the upper air,
That follows me ever and near,
With soft. sweet eyes and with raven hair,
With voiceless lips, yet with breath Of prayer
feel but cannot hear"