The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1898-04-14
Parepa Rosa's Easter Offering.

''Myra, this is perfect rest.' exclaimed
Parepa. ''We shall be quite alone for
four hours
"Yes, four long hours There will be
no rehearsals; nobody else knows where
you are
Parepa laughed merrily at the idea,
and well she might. At eleven that day
she had sung at one of our large New
York churches, and l had insisted upon
her going home with me- We were friends
in Italy, and SO she readily consented
But by noon the sky was overcast and
gray. Down came the snow, whitening
streets and roofs. The wind swept icy
breathS from the water as it came up
from the bay and rusheds past the city
spires and over tall buildings, whirl-
ing around us the snow in wild gusts
We hurried home, and sat close to the fire
tor an afternoons enjoyment
There was sharp rap at the door, and
note was thrust in. 1t read =
Ny DEAR FR1END:-Can you come? An
ME Las gone, She said you would be sure
to come to ilei funeral. She spoke of you to
the last. She will be buried at four.
ooh, dear! ] must 60" said |, ''but you
sit by the fire and rest. I'll be at home
IN two hours. And so, poor Annie has
gomez
'''rell me about it, Myla," said Parepa,
for am going with you;'' and, after |
had told her the story, she threw on her
heavy cloak, wound her long, white wool
en- scarf about her throat, drew on her
gloves, and we set out together in the
wild Easter storm.
The diving storm made us late, and we
found the handwriting friends sitting
stit1iy against he walls.
min ster came, brought as a mere
matter Of formality by the undertaken.
lcier than the pitiIess Storm without.
colder than the grave, were his words. He
read few verses from the Bible, warned
the bereaved mother against rebellion at
the divine Decree" and made a brief
prayer and was gone
The undertaken looked at the great
singer and me, as if to say, CTS time to
60"
Without word Parepa rose and walked
to the head of the CO fin. She laid her
white scarf on an empty chair, threw her
cloak back from ner shoulders, where
it fell in long, soft black lines from
her noble figure, like the drapery
of mourning. She laid her soft, fail
hand on the cold forehead, passed it
tenderly over the wasted, delicate face,
looked down at the dead girl a moment,
removed some Easter lilies 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.
ness and power and beauty. She looked
oh ho Io
of men and women, the hard hands and
the struggling hearts. She threw back
her head and sang till 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 hair, and sang on,
and on
Take, oh, take her to thy care.
The mothers face grew rapt and white.
Suddenly she threw my hand off and
knelt at Parepa' feet, close to the wood
en- trestles. She locked her fingers to-
gether, tears and sobs breaking forth. She
prayed aloud that God would bless the
angel singing for Annie. | led her back
to her seat as the last grand notes of
Parepa's voice rose triumphant over all
earthly pain and sorrow.
thought that no queen ever went to
her 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 Pa
repa's matchless voice. Applause rose to
the skies, and her own face was glorious
iy swept with emotion. | joined in the
enthusiasm 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, i could hear
Parepa's voice singing up to heaven
Take, oh take her to thy carer'