Oregon union. [volume] (Corvallis, Benton County, Or.) 1897-1899, 1897-11-12
the horrors of the outer world to be be

And even as we congratulated our
selves on the prospect Of delightful
day together there came the summons
for me to go to the humble funeral of
the poor sewing woman's daughter. l
turned the little tear-blotted note over
and groaned.
''This is TERRIBLE" said I; ats just
the one errand that could take me out
to-day; but I must CO." And then
told Parepa the circumstances and
speculated on the length of time i
should be gone, and suggested means
Of amusement in my absence.
But 1 shall go with you," said the
great, good-hearted creature.
"Your throat, and old Bateman, and
your concert to-nightg' pleaded.
"If get another 'froggy' note in my
voice it won't matter much; I'm hoarse
as a raven now," she returned.
So she rewound her throat with the
long, white comforter, pulled on her
worsted gloves, and off in the storm
we went together. We climbed flight
after fight Of narrow, dark stairs to
the top floor, where the widow dwelt in
miserable little room not more than
dozen feet square. The canvas-back
hearse, peculiar to the $25 funeral,
stood In the street below, and the aw-
full cherry stained box with it's ruffie
of glazed white muslin stood on uncov-
cred trestles in the center of the room
above.
There was the mother, speechless In
her grief, before that box-a group OF
hard-working, kindly hearted neigh
bors sitting about. 1t was useless to
say the poor woman was prepared for
the Inevitable end-it was cold comfort
to speak to her of the daughters re-
lease from pain and suffering. The be-
reft creature, in her utter loneliness,
was thinking of herself and the awful
fate-of the approaching moment when
that box and its precious burden would
be taken away and leave her wholly
alone. So, therefore, with sympathiz
ing grasp of the poor, worn, bony hand,
we sat silently down to "attend the
funeral"
The undertaker's man, with screw
driver in his hand, jumped about in the
passage to keep warm. The creaky
boots Of the minister belonging to the
$50 funeral were heard on the stairs.
There was a catarrhal conversation
held outside between them as to the
enormity Of the weather, and, probably,
| the bad taste of the deceased in select
| ing such a bad time to die was dis
| cussed. Then the minister came in with
a pious sniff and stood revealed, reg
| r11o Sfirrinc tn Cnlf-
sufficient man, icier than the day and
colder than the storm.
He deposited his hat and black gloves
and wet umbrella on the poor little bed
in the corner; he slapped his hand vig-
orously together; he took himself in
well-merited fashion by the ears and
pulled them into glowing sensation,
and after thawing out for a moment
plunged into business.
He ratified merrily through some Sc
lected sentences from the Bible. He
gave us prayer that sounded like peas
in a dried bladder, and he came to
amen with a Jerk that brought me up
like patent snaffie. He pulled on his
old gloves and grabbed his rusty hat,
and with his umbrella dripping inky
tears over the well-scrubbed floor he
offered a set form of coincidence to the
broken-hearted mother. He told her
of her sin in rebelling against the de-
cree of Providence. He assured her
that nothing could bring the dead back
He inveighed against the folly of the
world in general, and this poor woman
in particular; and then he made hor-
rible blunder, and showed he didn't
know even the sex of the dead, by say
ing: "He cannot come to you, but you
must go to him."
This was a settler for Parepa and
myself. We looked at the departing
minister in blank astonishment.
The door swung wide, we saw the
screw-driver waving in the air as the
undertaker's man held converse with
the clergyman. A hush fell on every
body gathered In the little room. Not
one word had been uttered of consola-
ton, of solemn import, or befitting the
occasion. 1t was the emptiest, hollow
est, most unsatisfactory moment
ever remember.
Then Parepa arose, her cloak falling
| about her noble figure like mourning
drapery. She stood beside that miser-
able cherry wood box. She looked a
moment on the pinched, wasted, ashy
| face upturned toward her from within
| 1t. She laid her soft, white hand on the
| discolored forehead of the dead girl, and
! she lifted up that matchless voice in
| the beautiful melody:
"Angels ever bright and fair,
Take me, oh, take her, to your care"
The screw-driver paused in describ-
| ing an airy circle; the wet umbrella
stood pointing down the stairs; the two
men with astonished faces were fore
most in a crowd that Instantly filed the
passage. The noble voice swelled to-
ward heaven, and if ever the choir of
| paradise paused to listen to earth's
music it was when Parepa sang so
| gloriously beside that poor dead girl.
No words can describe its effect on
those gathered there. The sad mourner
sank on. her knees, and with clasped
hands and streaming eyes the little
band stood reverently about her
No queen ever went to her grave ac-
companied by a grander ceremony To
this day Parepa's glorious tribute of
song rings with solemn melody in my
memory as the only real, impressive
| funeral service l ever heard.
Trolley Cars in Siam.