Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-02-24

alone. So, therefore, with a sympathiz.
ing grasp of the poor, worn, bony hand,
we sat silently down to ''attend the
funeral"
The undertaker's man, with a screw.
driver i'll his hand, jumped about in the
passage to keep warm. The creaky boots
of the minister belonging to the S25
funeral were heard on the stairs. There
was a catarrhal conversation held out
side between them as to the enormity of
the weather, and probably the bad taste
Of the deceased in selecting such a bad
time to die was discussed. Then the
minister cane in with IA pious sniff and
stood revealed, a regular Stiggins as to
get up-a dry, self 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 hands Wig
orously together; he took himself in
we'll merited fashion by the ears and
pulled them into the glowing sensation,
and after thawing out for a moment
uo plulReu luCO Du6ln6bS.
He ratified merrily through some Sc
lected sentences from the Bible. He
gave us a prayer that sounded like peas
in a dried bladder, and he came to amen
with q jerk that brought me up like q
patent snap. He pulled on his old gloves
and grabbed his rusty hat, and. with his
umbrella dripping inky tears over the
we'll scrubbed floor, he offered a set form
Of coincidence to the broken hearted
mother. He told her Of her sin in rebel.
ling against the decree Of Providence.
He assured her that nothing could bring
the dead back. He inveighed against the
folly of the world in general, and then
be made q horrible blunder and showed
he didn't know even the sex Of the dead
by saying, HE cannot come to you, but
you must 60 to him."
This wal a settler for Parepa and my
self. We looked at the departing minis.
ter in blank astonishment.
The door swung wide; we saw the
screwdriver 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. 1t was the emptiest, hollowest,
most unsatisfactory moment I ever re-
member.
Then Parepa arose. her cloak falling
about her noble figure like mourning
drapery. She stood beside that miser.
able cherry wood box. She looked q
moment on the pinohed, 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, oh, take her, to your care.
The screwdriver paused in describing
an airy circle. The wet umbrella stood
pointing down the stairs. The two men
with astonished faces were foremost in
q crowd that instantly filled the passage.
The noble voice swelled toward heaven,
and If ever the choir Of paradise paused
to listen to earth's music it was when
Parepa sang 80 g%loriously beside that
poor dead girl.
No words a describe its effect O u
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 &C.
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 I ever heard. -''Plsnets
and paon1o |