San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1885-08-13
a LONELY DEATH.
Pathetic Story OF Low Life Told by ID
troll Journalist.
San Marcos, Texas.

PAthetlc ivory OF Low LILO foiu ny Nv
troll journalist.
IL was here in Detroit at one OF the
city hospitals that ! saw the saddest
funeral ceremony ever witnessed.
1t was that Of n woman who had
literally died by inches. Poverty, sorrow
and sickness had been her constant
companions for years, and when Mt last
on hospital bed she drew her hast
breath, IL seemed rs II there could be-
nothing left to feel the pang OF dissolu-
tion--nothing but skin and bone.
She had been well cared for in her
last sickness by those who gave their
time and service to the work OF charity,
but Il is doubtful II she knew it. Her
mind lived in the past, and she muir
INJURED in delirium of a happy home and
seemed to be always caressing little
child. Now she would talk to IL in a
sweet mother-tonguc, using the fond,
endcaring language of love TO call 1t to
her; again she seemed to dread some
terrible fate for il, and besought God to
save it, even to take 1t away from tn"
evil to come. Always it was the child
that was present with her, so that pain
was paught-the child that she con-
tinually addressed AS Darling Emma, "
and she died with that name on her
lips.
This was all there was of the dead
woman's history. The pail of dark
past had fallen upon her. II was only
known that the child about whom she
had raved and prayed was still alive,
and somewhere in the city. But so far
all search had failed to find her.
The brief funeral ccremonies-at the
expense of the city, for hers was II pau
per burial-were held in the large par
lor of the hospital. A young clergy
man who had just entered upon HI"
work, the assistants of the hospital,
the undertaken, hat in hand, and
one or two strangers, were all who
were present The dead woman lay in
highly vanished pine coffin, from
which the metal shells were already
falling in shower Of tawdry splcndor,
80 imperfcctly were they fastened on.
Her face was composed and peaceful
Life and dca'h had done their worst
the battle was now over
In the chill and silence the voice OF
the young minister, cultured and tune
flu, sounded like II strain of music. All
heads bowed ~ he rec,ted:
II am tho reslIrrrct on aud the life
There was a scream--a wall of heart
rcnding grief, and the service wa4 in
terrupted. az n woman, young and bag
gard, ru he'd into the room and threw
herself on the coffin; she WAS Dire scd
aaily in silk attire A long feather
danrled from Il gaudy ha. every hing
about her bespoke death adder than
that in the coffin.
"Mothcr. mother she moanrd. "whv
did you not let me know? Oh | would
have come to You and worked my
fingers to the bone to save you! On
mother, mother. come back to me jus.
to say YOU forgive me. Mother. 1t IL
YOUR own little Emmy! Do you hear
mep IL is Emmy! Oh, my God! am
TOO late! She will never speak to me
again!"
Plying friends drew the frenziel
woman away. In ii moment she had
dashed them aside and leaning again
over the dead mother she pressed her
lirs once twice---thrice to the cold
ips of the dead Then she clasped her
hands and lifted her eyes to Heaven,
while her lips seemed to be recording Il
vow Tho wintry sun shone out at
that moment from the western sky, and
touahe with golden finger the sal,
sad scene of death in life, and life in
death, and the minister resumed the
service where he had been interrupted;
ii MI the resurrection and the lite.'
- U,fr,,n E,,,p Press