Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1898-04-09
PAREPA ROSA's EASTER.
Day Which She Long Remembered
as an Unusual One.

as an Unusual One.
From the New York Mail and Express
Myra, this is perfect rest" exclaimed
Parera. I'VE shall be quite alone Tor four
hours"
Yes, four long hours. There will he no
rchearsals; nobody else knows whore Won
are"
Parepa laughed merrily at the idea. and
well she might. At il that day she had
sung at one of oar large New York church.
es. and had insisted on her going home
with me. We were friends in Italy. and SO
she readily consented. But by noon tho
sky was overcast and gray Down came
the snow, whitening streets and roofs. We
hurried home and sat close to the fire for
an afternoons enjoyment
Ihere was a sharp rap at the door, and
note was thrust in. 1t read:
My dear friend: Can you come? Annie
bas gone. She said you would be sure 60
come to her funeral. She spoke OF you TO
the last. She will be buried at e."
on, dear. 1 must CO." said I, but you
SIT by the fire and rest. I'll be at home in
TWO hours. And SO poor Annie has gomez
Tell me about 1t, Myra" said Parepa
for / am going with you;" and after I
lad told the story she threw on her heavy
cloak, wound her long, white wooden scarf
ABOUT her throat. drew on her gloves and
We set out together in the wild Easter
storm.
The driving storm made us late. and We
found the hard-workfng friends sitting
sttff1y against the walls.
A minister came, brought as a mere mat
ter OF formality by the undertaken. Icier
than the pitiless storm without colder than
the grave were his words He read a few
verses from the Bible, warned the be-
reaved mother against rebellion at the
Divine decrees,' made a brief prayer and
was gone.
The undertaken looked at the great singer
and III M tn
Without a word Parepa arose and walked
to the head of the coffin. She laid her
white scarf on an empty chair threw her
cloak back from her shoulders where IL
Yell in long, soft black lines from her noble
figure, like the drapery of mourning She
laid her soft. fair hand on the cold fore
head, passed 1t tenderly over the wasted,
delicate face, looked down at the dead girl
had brought from the stained box TO the
thin fingers, and with illumined eyes sang
the glorious melody:
Angels, ever bright and fair
Take, oh. take her to thy care"
Her voice rose snd fell in all it's richness
and power and beauty and pity. She look
ed above the dirgy room and the tired
faces of men and women, the hard hanos
and the struggling hearts She threw back
her head and sang until the choirs OF para
disc must have paused to listen TO the
Easter music of that day.
She passed her hands caressingly over the
girls soft, dark nair, and sang on--and on:
Take. oh, take her to thy care"
The mothers face grew rapt and white
Suddenly she threw my hand OF and knelt
"a Parepas feet. close to the wooden tres
ties. She locked her fingers together. tears
and sobs breaking forth She prayel aloud
that God would bless the angel singing for
Annie. 1 led her back to her seat as the
last grand notes of Parepa's voice rose tri-
umphant over all earthly pain and sorrow.
thought that no queen ever went to he.-
grave with greater ceremony than this
young daughter of poverty and toll. COM
mitted to the care Of the angels.
That night thousands listened to Parepa's
H.atchiess voice. Applause rose to the
SKIES and her own face was gloriously
swept with emotion. 1 Joined in the en-
tfusiasm; but, above the glitter and the
shimmering Of Jewels and Dress and the
heavy odors Of Easter flowers. the sea Of
smiling faces and the murmur of voices
above, the sleet on the roof and the roar OF
the storm outside, 1 could hear Parepa's
voice singing up to heaven: Take, oh!
take her to thy care!"