The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1898-03-04
A TRIBUTE OF SONG.
THE OPERATlC STAR AT THE POOR
GIRLS FUNERAL.

1t was many years ago that poor wild
owed woman, leading hard life of un-
ending labor, was called to part with the
one thirg dear TO her her only child.
Mother and daughter had toiled together
for 10 years, and the only bit of sunlight
falling into their dark lives was that shed
by their loving oompanionship But the
girl had always been sickly. Under the
heartbroken mothers eyes she had faded
and wasted away with consumption, and
Mt last tho day came when the wan face
failed to answer with its CHASTITY smile the
anxious, tear blinded eyes of the mother.
The POOR young creature was dead. For
many months the pair had been supported
by the elder woman's sewing and it was
in the character of employer had become
acquainted with Mrs. Cramp and her story.
By an occasional visit TO the awful heights
of an east side tenement, where they lived,
by few books and with some comforting
! words had won the love of the dying
girl Her grateful thoughts turned in her
last hours TO the small number of friends
she possessed, and she besought her moth
er to notify me of the day of her funeral
and ask me to attend.
The summons reached me upon one of
the widest days preceding Christmas. A
sleet that was not rain and rain that was
not snow came pelting from all points of
the compass A wind that walled in the
chimney and howled in the street told
how truly dreadful for outdoor purposes
was the weather of the day. / piled the
glowing CRATES. drew closer the curtains
and shut out the gloom of the December
afternoon. l turned on the gas and sat
down devoutly thankful that had cut all
connection with the witched weather when
an installment of it burst in on me in the
shape of Parepa Rosa. She was Euphros-
yne Parepa at that time and the operatic
idol of the city.
AS we congratulated ourselves on the
prospect of delightful day together, there
came the summons for me to go to the
humble funeral of the poor sewing wom-
ans daughter. 1 turned the little tear
blotted note over and groaned.
"This is terrible, said l. "It's just the
one errand that could take me out today.
But must GO" And then told Parepa
the circumstances and speculated on the
length Of time should be gone and sug-
gested means Of amusement in my alb
sence.
"But shall 60 with you," said the
great, good hearted creature.
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
flight of narrow, dark stairs to the top
floor, where the widow dwelt in miser-
able little room not more than o dozen
feet square. The canvas back hearse, pc
culiar to the $25 funeral, stood in the street
below, and the awful cherry stained box,
with its ruffle of glazed white muslin.
stood Oh uncovered trestles in the center
of the room above.
There was the mother speechless in hur
grief before that box--a group of hard.
working, kindly hearted neighbors sitting
about. Itwas useless to say the poor WON
an was prepared for the inevitable end.
1t was cold comfort to speakto her of the
daughter s release from pain and suffering.
The undertaker's man, with a screw
driver in his hand, jumped about in the
passage to keep warm. The creaky boots
of the minister belonging to the $25 flu
neral were heard on the stairs. There was
a catarrhal conversation held outside be-
tween them as to the enormity of the
weather, and probably the bad taste of the
deceased in selecting such bad time tC
die was discussed. Then the minister
came in with pious sniff and stood re
vealcd, regular Stiggins as to get up-t
dry, self sufficient man, icier than the day
and colder than the storm.
He deposited his hat and black gloves
and wet umbrella OH the poor little bed il
the corner. He slapped his hands vigor
ously together. He took himself in vel
merited fashion by the ears and pulled
them into glowing sensation, and aftel
thawing out Tor a moment plunged int
business.
He ratified merTily through some select
ed sentences from the Bible. He gave III
a prayer that sounded like peas in drle(
bladder, and no came to amen with a jerl
that brought me up like patent snaffle
He pulled on his old gloves and grabbed
his rusty hat, and with his umbrella drip
= ping inky tears over the well scrubbet
floor he offered q set form of coincidence Il
the broken hearted mother He told he
of her sin in rebelling against the decree
of Providence He assured her that moth
ing could bring the dead back. He in
4 NOiSuCu oSdALsO INC lOllg vi OnO WOliu II
general, and this poor woman in particu
lar, and then he made horrible blunde
and showed he didn't know even the Sc,
of the dead by saying, she cannot come t.
you, but you must go to him"
This was a settler for Parepa and my
self, We looked at the departing ministe
], in blank establishment.
The door swung WIDE Wesaw the screw
driver waving in the air as the undertak
er's man held converse with the clergy
3 man. A hush fell on everybody gathere,
in the little room. Not one word had beel
= uttered of consolation, of solemn impoT
or BETTING the occasion. Itwas the empti
: est, hollowest, most unsatisfactory, mo
. ment ever remember.
Then Parepa arose, her cloak falling
about her noble figure like mourning
drapery. She stood beside that miserabl
y cherry wood box. She looked momen
on the pinched, wasted, ashy face up
= turned toward her from within. She lai
. her soft, white hand on the discolore
: forehead of the dead girl, and she lifted u
y that matchless voice in the beautiful mel
y ody:
Angels ever bright and fair,
Q Take oh, take me to your care.
The screwdriver paused in describin
J. an airy circle; the wet umbrella stoo
pointing down the stairs the two mer
with astonished faces, were foremost in