The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1877-03-03

AS was nurrylng out OF tne organ
loft, wild with fear and uneasy thoughts,
some one of the choir remarked behind
me id a tone of deep sympathy:
Poor little May Auderly Is it not
sad that one so young and beautiful
should lie dying this sunllt spring
morning ?"
l stopped to hear no more, but, stun
ned and bewildered, sought my shabby
room and locking out the cold unfeeing
world, tainted upon the floor. When
consciousness returned, l thought how
drear my future life must henceforth be.
l believed then (in the fist great shock)
tha5 death had thus afflict, me, because
l, the plebean musician, had no right
to look upon the purple and golden
hangings OF "yOung loves dream. /"
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 1 smile upon
even this shadow, knowing that In the
bright " 10 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, entered the iron gate bordered
with tall, dark evergreens, and sat up.
on the marble base of the pretty fOun-
tain 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 coming through the half closed
parlOr blinds, knew all was over, and
my darling would sleeptill Christ should
come to gather up his jewels; and,
kneeling there amid the flowers, l
watched with the dead inside until the
first faint blush Of morning painted the
eastern sky.
Being neither friend nor associate of
the Auderlys, l 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,
wept as onlya 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
servant handed in q card with the writ
ten request that should play the funer-
al dirge of Miss Auderly. at her late
residence. Thankful for even this
chaLce, l bowed assent, determining
music should tell the lowering angel
spirit, my deep, wild love-love that in
life dared not breathe, but which in
death became glorifed.
Softly entering the dark room, fast
filling with weeping friends, l stood for
a moment, before taking my seat at the
organ, by the side Of the handsome
rosewood casket and gaZed for the last
time upon all that was mortal Of my
idol. The little figure lay stiff and cold
in its billowy robe of white. The wax
en- finger held to the silent breast pure
white flowers, and a lily slept in the
dark brown curls. Bending over her,
l caught sight of mislaid riDglet and
gently replaced it, allowing my hand
to rest for an instant on the pale, cold
brow. That was my farewell for
earth.
feel tonight the separation cannot
be long, now, fer have grown old in |
years and the grasshopper is become
a burthen !" and often in the quiet of |
twilight think l hear the dip of the |
bOatman's 5 oars as he crosses the "river |
OF death, and the cool, damp mist from |
It's banks arises and vets the old mans
brow.
All, Bell Seymour tho hideous old
so worthless in your merry
sight has turned down leaf in his fold |
I'd life all your beauty and wealth could
never buy. A white finger has pointed
10 me a country where no fading or
parting comes; a country whose maker
and builder is God; and / know some
lay, perchance 10 the gathering twi>
light, | shall pass quietly away and
AXE my "chamber in the silent halls of
leath." Till then | feel
There's a beautiful face in the upper air,
That follows me ever ana near,
With soft sweet eyes and with raven hair,
With vOioeless nps. vet with breath OF prayer |
ieel but cannot hear !"
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