Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1900-04-14
PAREPA ROSA'S SONG.
AN EASTER OF UNUSUAL INTEREST
IN HER DISTINGUISHED CAREER.

The Grand Notes of Her Mntchless
Voice. In Its Richness and Pity md
Beauty, Rose Triumphnntly Over
All Earthly Pain and sorrow.
"Myra, this Is perfect rest" eX-
claimed Parepa. We shall be quite
i1one for four hours"
Yes, four long hours. There will be
no rchearsals; nobody else knows
where you are
Parcpa laughed merrily at the idea,
and well she might. At II that day
she had sung at one of our large New
York churches, and 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. We
hurried home and sat close to the fire
for an afternoons enjoyment.
There was a sharp rap at the door,
and n note was thrust in. 1t read:
My Dear Fricnd-Can you Gomez A. ME has
gone. She said YOU would be sure 20 coz to her
funeral She spoke Vt you to the last She will
be buried at 4.
"Oh, dear! l must co." said l, but
you sit by the fire and rest. III be at
home in two hours. And so, poor An
ME has gone"
Tell me about it, Myra," said Pare
pa, "for | am going with you;' and,
after l had 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 hardworking friends sit
ting stitlly against the walls.
a minister came. brought as a mere
matter of formality by the undertaken.
Icier than the pitiless storm without.
colder than the grave, were his words.
He read few verses from the Bible,
warned the bcreaved mother against
rebellion at the divine dccrees,' made
brief prayer and was gone.
The undertaken looked at the great
singer and me, as If to say. ITS time
to GO"
Without word Parcpa rose and
walked to the head of the coffin. She
laid her white scarf on an empty chair,
threw her cloak back from her shoul-
ders, where it fell in long, soft black
lines from her noble figure, like the
drapery Of mourning. She laid her
soft. fair hand on the cold forehead,
- I,n Inl
icate 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 illu-
mined eyes sang the glorious melody:
Angels, bright and fair,
Take. oh. take her to thy care!
Her voice rose and fell in all its rich
ness and power and beauty and pity.
She looked above the dingy room and
the tired faces of men and women, the
hard hands and the struggling hearts.
She threw back her head and sang till
the choirs of paradise must have paus-
ed 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's feet, close to
the wooden trestles. She locked her
fingers together. tears and sobs break
ing forth. She prayed aloud that God
would bless the angel singing for An
ME. | led her back to her seat as the
last grand notes of Parepa's voice rose
triumphant over all earthly pain and
sorrow.
l thought that no queen ever went to
her grave with greater ceremony than
this young daughter of poverty and
toll, committed to the care of the an
gels.
That night thousands listened to Pa
repa's matchless voice. Applause rose
to the skies, and her own face was glo-
riOusly swept with emotion. | Joined
In the enthusiasm, but above the gilt
ter 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 | could hear Parepa's voice
singing up to heaven, Take, oh, take
her to thy care!'-New York Mail and
Express.