St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1889-06-08
Two UnweIcome Visitors.

fathers home was not like the city house
live in now, but was real old fashioned
farm house built hundred years ago.
with big fire. places, and full of hooks and
corners where we children used to play
hide and seek. There was the old garnet
with stores of butter nuts and hickory
nuts, and some of the incest apples you
could wish for. There were flower beds
in the summer time, with hollyhocks and
four oclocks and violets and daisies in
their season. How | wish | could show
you the big old trees that still grow above
the old homestead, and the beautiful
fields that still stretch down in front,
all green with grass and sparkling with
daisy stars A pleasant home lived in,
and if you could have been there, children,
what splendid times we would have had.
But one day stranger entered our dwell
ing and laid my father low. We all
shrank with fear even the very dog crept
moaning under the bed on which he lay.
The stranger was Disease and he would
not let go his grasp for many weary
months And my father said, ''Let him
stay it will not be long at the most. Soon
another visitor will come; his name will
be Death want you" my father said,
Ito move my bed up 10 the window We
did SO. Then he asked my Oldest sister to
go outside and walk until he should wave
his hand, and there to stop. "There,' he
said, "dig my grave, for shall soon need
one" While this was going on my father s
faithful dog had left his masters bed, and
with bis fore paws upon the window,
watched all the while as if to say that he
understood as well as we did, and have
no doubt he did. When the master of the
house had thus settled where he should be
buried, and my sister had returned from
the appointed place to the house, the dog
went under the bed again and refuses to
come out until the day his master dieG
At last the second and most dreaded
visitor came. Death entered into the house,
and my father was no more. l was too
young to know what it meant, but the
faithful dog knew, and went out to that
spot where he had seen mF sister 60, and,
before the grave was dug, kept guard
there, with the most mournful bowls |
ever heard.
This was the first visit that had ever
been made to our house by Death. While
my father was lying cold and silent upon
his bed. l went cut and picked some ber-
ries and carried them in to give to him.
called to him, ''Papa, have come to give
you some berries" but he took no notice
of me. l called little louder, "Papa, l
have got some berries for you" But he
did not hear me, and | began to cry and
ran into the kitchen and told my mother
that my father would not take the berries,
and would not hear me, and | had been
calling and calling, and he would not hear
me. | remember the tears running down
my mothers cheeks, and how sad my old
est sister was, as they stood looking at me-
and l knew then that something was
wrong. Finally my sister took me and
said that my papa would never be able to
take any more berries, that he was dead
and could not hear me any more that soon
he would be buried in the ground. re-
member going out behind the house, and
oh, how | cried. It seemed that my poor
heart would break, but l had my cry out,
and went into the house again cheerful.
At last the day for the funeral came. The
minister also came, and the people gath
cred in the house. The coffin was brought
ont and the mourners seated around it.
Ny mother took me in her lap, and the
other children were seated according to
their ages. Atthe close of the services we
were permitted to look for the last time at
him who had been our guide and protector
thus far. The grave was but short dis
lance from the house, and as we gathered
around it and the coffin was being lowered,
the poor dog gave one bound, and heart
rending cry, and jumped upon the coffin.
cannot forget the thrill that went through
that company of friends and neighbors,
and especially the distress of our poor
mother, who stood at the head of the
grave. We tried to get the faithful crea-
ture out, but he was unwilling to come.
Finally they succeeded, do not know
how; but l remember looking over the
grave and seeing them put the earth on
the coffin, snd | began to cry. Oh, how
dreadful to think that my father was to be
buried. Not until that moment did realize
what my sister had said, that he was to be
covered from our view. We returned to
mourn, but my fathers favorite dog re-
manned by the grave. He never took an.
other mouthful of food, but starved him
self to death.
These circumstances made deep and
lasting impression upon my mind. Ere
quently would go away by myself and
weep over the grave. never speaking about
it to any one. I have not remembered
anything that the minister said at the
funeral. I think was looking around to
see what could see and learn about this
mysterious meeting, wondering what all
these things meant. But l have learned
since little more about this world, and
now as look around l see many little or
phan children, fatherless and motherless
ones, and my sympathies have always been
enlisted in their behalf, because of these
sad and solemn moments of my early child
hood. Often have these thoughts come
back to me when engaged in mission work
in the South, or in the city, or when caring
for the fatherless and motherless in my
own home, and have urged me onward in
my work with fresh zeal.
There was one thing in my favor as
grew up. Whether heard much about
God or not, thought much about him.
I always thought if would be good,
and do right, and obey my mother, that l
should see my father again, and that Jesus
would take me with him, thought which
had the tendency to keep me through all
my ,girlhood days.
4 It is Blessed thing for little children
to know their God, and to become &C
quainted with Jesus, who walked and
talked with children upon this earth, and
called little ones around him and placed
his hands upon their heads and drew them
70 his side. Oh, how lovely that will be
when they begin to hear the sound of that
sweet voice saying unto them. "Come up
higher, children"
| would say to my little friends who
nave lost a father or a mother that God