CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. I. NO. 4.
“Ik* Witt of Hod,”
A!j "in Ike twinkling of in eve"
Will «sn* >h*t wondrous mystery,
'That wondrousotiange, when the "molts!
Mast put on immortality. ”
The martyred Christians felt the truth
And knowledge of the higher state,
And with God's pesos it strengthened thorn
To boar the toners of their hits.
Oh 1 if the creature hid no hope
Os nobler life beyond the earth,
Then would tbs manuscripts wf faith,
WritMa in blood, be nothing worth.
Gs all tbs treasures to be had
And sought tram out a world of strife,
Uaith's greatest, surest, lasting gain,
Tho gift of feltb —dawn of new life.
Oh. woaMa't thou conquer all the world
And hoar a oasgtre gnat with thes V
Ko monarch wears a grander crown
Than given is to purity.
Al the Redeemer's etwee, iu feaih
Ob tee* 1 aad leave thy leed of strife j
la the power of love confide,
Believe—this is eternal life.
THE DONATION PARTY.
It was tho emeuiag of the donation
yarly at the Rev. Simeon Slide's.
Ak GrovebtU they had rot many
excitements, aad, to the simple vil
liSers, this donation party eras aa thrill
ing aa event as the ol arity hall would
be to a Mow York belie or a Court pree
extitioa to a London debutante.
Jesnse Smith had retrimmed her
white muslin drees with apple-green
ribbon, and even Aunt Betsey had
washed and ironed the French cambric
dress which constituted the cream of
her wardrobe, and basted fresh lace
trillings into the neck and sleeves;
while the Squire himself, blacking bis
hoots on the kitchen porch, congratu
lated himself, in a complacent sort of
way, on the contents of the box-wagon,
which stood out under the shade of the
old apple-tree.
'* it everybody takes as creditable a
load to the parson's as that," said the
tspiiro, "1 guess they won’t starve
there. A bam, a bag o’ mixed chicken
feed, a fiikin o’ first-class butter, six
dressed fowls, a bushel o' russet apples
aad a loaf of plum cake, made after
Grandmother Field’s Revolutionary re
ceipt, and, besides all that ”
''Good gracious, pa!” said Jessie,
Who was tucking away her curls under
the strings of ber split-straw gipsy hat,
"how are Aunt Bess and 1 ever going to
ride with all that load >”
“Well,” said the Squire, with an
oleaginous little chuckle, '• you’ll have
to contrive it somehow. One of you
can sit on the butter firkin aud sort o’
steady it, and there's plenty o' room for
the other along o’ me on the seat and
hold the plum cake on your lap. And,
cornin' back, 1 ain’t noways disturbed
but that you'll get plenty of beaux.
Gals always do. The moon will be at
its full, and Peter Peck and Hiram
Jeilifer is both to be there, and ”
“Don't talk nonsense, pat" said
Jessie, laughing and looking provok
ingly pretty just as Aunt Betsey, glanc
ing over her shoulder into the glass,
saw the reflection of her own face, and
mghed softly.
Ah, the sad, sad difference between
eighteen aad thirty I
" I was pretty, too, when I wss a
firl. ' said Aunt Betsey to herself, "and
don't *■ oppose I am positively ill-
I voting now But the dimples are
gone, aad the roses and the smooth
velvets curve* of cheek and chin ; and
thou at* incipient crowa’-feet around
my eye* and a wrinkle on my. forehead,
and, when I go to parties, I am left
to sit among toe old ladies by the wall."
Bnt Hiss Betsey Field did not speak
out thews words; she only said:
''There'll be plenty of room, Jessie.
I shall go on to the parsonage at once,
and help Mrs. Slide get ready for the
evening. She needs some one to assist
ker, with her sickly daughter and all
tboac little children.”
'-So hind and thoughtful of you.
Aunt Bom H said Jessie, with a kiss.
‘But you're si wavs thoughtful. You’re
the darlingest little old maid that ever
was.”
So Betaey Field set out to walk down
the sunny, grass carpeted lawn, while
JsMte leisurely finished her toilet and
I inaed fresh roses into ber belt.
Refer Peck, who lived pp on a com
fortable farm on the mountain, had
ahot a deer in the woods—like Nimrod
of old, he was a mighty hunter on the
fare cf the earth- and prepared a
quarter of venaaon, neatly wrapped in a
linen cloth, for hie abare of the dona
tion; and old lira Peek, hia grand
mother, had fished a jar of apple sancs
cut ot the cellar, and dressed some
t< nder spring chickens.
"I'm peat going to church myself,”
said Granny Peea, "but I always was
caetobrlievein the dlaesmination of
tha Gospel, to I don't grudge the
chickeaa aad the apple-saes. Be aura
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., JULY 15, 1882.
you? cariy ’em careful, Peter, and—”
"Qranny!’’ suddenly burst in the
honest yonng giant, who was tying his
cravat before the glass with laborious
fingers, "how many years is it sinoe
grant her courted you?”
“Good land o’ Goshen I" said Granny
Peck, “what is the boy talkin’ about ?”
“Because I want to know what he
said,” said Peter, reddening to the very
roots of his hair. "I’m a-goin' courtin’
myself, granny, and I hain't had no ex
perience, and I don’t know how to go
to work,”
“Well I never I" said Granny Peqk.
"Try to remember, there's a good
soul I” urged Peter, ooaxingly.
"It’s so long ago,” said Granny Peek,
with a sympathetic moisture beginning
o suffuse her bleared eyeballs. ‘-Times
is changed now—”
"But human natur' is human natur,’
just the same,”said Peter. "How was
it, granny ?” ■ -
"He took me out a tidin’,” said the
old lady, assisting her [memory with a
goodly pinch of rose-soented snuff,
"Thst’s it ezaeklv,” said Peter. "I’ve
harnessed up Bed Robin, and washed
off the buggy wagon, and I oalculato to
ask her to ride home with me from the
donation party."
"Ana it was a dreadful mooashiny
night—" reflectively added the old lady.
"Moon’s at the full.” exultantly mut
tered Peter. “I b’lievo there’s a fate
in it ?”
"And he set up close to me, and
squeezed my band with the hand he
wasn't u-drivin’ with, and he said I was
the prettiest gal he'd ever seen, and
could 1 be contented to come and live
at Hawk’s Farm. And I said I didn’t
exaotly know, but be might ask father.
And we was married the next fall. Ah,
deary me, deary me 1 how long ago all
that seemsi”
"It sounds easy enough," said Peter,
despondently. “Bnt I’d rather clear
off a whole patch o’ hickory woods.”
"Don't be afraid, Peter," said the old
lady, laying a kindly hand on his
shoulder. "If she’s a gal wuth havin’,
she 11 know you’re a good lad. And I’ll
bet a cookey she’ll say ’Yes.’”
"I only wish I could think so, gran
ny," said Peter, with a sigh.
“Is it Kate Lanney," said Mrs. Peck,
“or Mary Eleley?’
"'Tain’t neither one," gaid Peter,
sheepishly. “It’s Jessie Field I"
"Lind o’maesy I” said Granny Peck,
elevating ner withered hands. "What
on airtu is a pretty pink-and-white piece
of china like her to do in a wild place
like this?”
"She's as smart as a steel-trap,” said
Peter. “Don’t yon worry, granny I
Once I get her here, you’ll see that she’ll
be all right!"
So Peter piled his venison, and
chickens, and jar of apple-sauce into
the baok of the roomy old buggy, and
drove away to the donation party, as
full of hopes and fears as any yonng
girl.
And when ho saw Hiram Jellifer, the
village store-olerk, enter, all redolent of
pomatum and oologne, in a oitv-cut suit
of clothes, and hair brushed to a peak
over his forehead, his heart sank within
him.
"I hain't no chance at all,” be thought.
"Jessie, ’ whispered Aunt Betsey to
her niece, as they were clearing* the
dining-room for the games whioh fol
lowed npon the old-fashioned supper,
“do take a little notice of poor Peter
Peck I See how his eyes are* following
yon. And yon have hardly been decent
ly polite to him I”
"Peter Peck, indeed 1” said Jessie,
radiant in the consciousness of being
the prettiest girl in the room, “I
couldn't possibly be bothered with him,
Annt Bess; none of your backwoodsmen
for me I Yon can go and talk with him
yourself, if you please I”
Bnt Aunt Betsey, shyer than any
child, shrank, blusning, away.
“No,” said she, “I couldn't do that.
I—l am so little acquainted with himl ’
Half an hour afterward, Peter Peek,
unable to make np bis mind to ask
pretty Jessie to allow him to take her
home with Red Robin and the boggy,
sidled up to the squire.
"Squire,” mid he, jerking the words
ont with an effort, "can I take Miss
Field homer
"Much obleeged, I’m surer said the
squire. “I hid the box-wagon here;
bnt I don't mind riding home alone, if
so be aa you’d like oompany.”
Peter drew a long breath.
"It's as good as settled now,” mid
he to himself.
His heart beat high when, in the
misty moonlight, a slight figure came
ont. nnder Squire Field's esoort, all
mnflled, shawled and veiled, against the
ohill, fresh air of the autumn evening.
And not until they were safe out on
the high road, at Red Robin's best
trot, did he credit his extraordinary
good lock in tlms securing a Mc a-tete
with the belle es the evening.
"It's s nice, shiny evening,’’ mid he,
sheepishly.
"Very," answered a soft voice.
"I hope I don’t crowd you?” ha
hazarded.
“Oh, not in the least!” responded his
companion.
And then followed an appalling si
lence, broken at last by the vehement
accents of the yonng farmer.
"It ain’t no use my skirmishin’ round
like this!” said he. "It’s got to be
said, and the sooner fmy it the better,
because it’s a-ohokin’ of me all the
while! I love you, Miss Field! I can’t
live, nohow, without you) There, it’s
all out now!”
"Oh, Mr. peek!” faltered Miss Field.
"Do you s’pose,'’ said honest Peter,
with a dim remembrance of his grand
mother’s lemon, “you could be happy
at Hawk’s Farm?”
"Oh, Mr. Peck!”
" Bnt say yes or no!” pleaded Peter.
"Will you be my wife, Miss Field?”
And the word which floated upon
Peter's ears, through the veils and
wraps whieh he was now valoronsly
hugging close np to him, was "Yesl”
"I never was so happy in all my life!”
said Peter, rapturously.
"Nor I,” whispered the voice behind
the veil.
And then Peter took courage to kiss
her, and then Red Robin shied at a
tree-stamp, and then, all too soon, ap
peared Squire Field’s square, red house
behind the apple-trees. And Peter
helped his fiancet ont as tenderly as if
she were a bar of solid gold and he a
miser. And up dashed Mr. Hiram
Jenifer’s varnished side box road wagon,
and turning around, Peter Peck saw
springing from it Jessie Field.
Was it withcraft? Nothing of the
sort; for there, dose to him, smiling and
blnshing in the moonlight, with her
veil thrown aside, was Miss Betsey.
And it was Miss Betsey to whom he had
proposed, and Miss Betsey who had ac
cepted him.
Peter Peck gave a convulsive grasp
for breath. What was he to do ? Shonld
he tell Miss Betaey that it was all a
mistake—that he Lad taken her for her
niece ? or shonld he—
But at that instant he caught a fleet
ing glimpse of Jessie's radiant lace
turned up to Jenifer's, and it was like a
revelation to him.
“Hang it all!” groaned Peter to him
self; "that other fellow has been ahead
of me I Audi don't care a copper cent—
she’s only a feather-headed little coquet,
after all, and Miss Betsey is worth two
of her, and I ain’t so very yonng myself,
and there never was a Peek yet that
didn't stick by a thing when once he'd
said it.”
"So, taking Miss Betsey’s arm tender
ly nnder his own, he proceeded valiant
ly into the house to ask the squire's
consent and blessing.
As for Jessie, she lingered long nnder
the trees in the moonlight, talking with
Mr. Jellifer; and when, at last, she came
np stairs to the room which annt and
nieoe shared together, Bhe looked earn
estly at her companion.
"Annt Bess,” said she, "what is the
matter? Why do yon look so happy ?”
‘ Because Mr. Peck has asked me to
marry him,” replied Aunt Bess, softly,
"and I have answered him yes.”
"Well, if that isn’t strange!” cried
Jessie, squeezing and kissing her still
youthful annt. "And I have engaged
myself to Hiram Jellifer. Oh, Aunt
Bess, what a sweet, blight, happy world
this is!"
"It is—it is !” answered Annt Bess;
and then strange to say, they both cried.
Granny Peok was sitting np, by her
candle and fire, when at last Peter came
home.
"Well, Peter,” said she, “what luck?"
“It's all right, granny!” said Peter.
"I’ve asked her. and she has consented,
and I'm to bring her neie in three
months.”
Granny Peok looked doubtfully
around.
“Well,” said she. "I'm glad you’ve
anoeeeded, Peter. But I'm a little
afeard all these home-spun things won’t
be fine enough for Miss Jessie Field.”
"Jessie I" echoed Peter, with an ex
cellent imitation of surprise. “It ain’t
Jessie at all. Jessie is going to marry
that Jellifer fellow. It's Miss Bessie
Field, the aqnire’a sister, aa I’ve Dro
posed to/*
"Well, I never !’’ said Granny Feck.
"How could I have been so mistook?”
"I’m sore I don’t know,” said Peter,
stolidly. Heleh Fobbebt Qbaves.
An odd toilet, made for a lady in
Newport, is a blaok and gold brocaded
foulard silk, with plaited flounoea edged
with buttercup yellow lace, headed by
a band of black velvet, put on bias of
the goods. The short tunio, with fuU
Buckingham puffs over the hips, ia
tnmmed to correspond, and the Oamar
go bodice baa a deep collar and wide
turnover cuffs of black velvet, edged
with yellow laoe. A Tuscan straw
bonnet in the Langtry shape, trimmed
over the crown with slots of wide blaok
velvet ribbon and inside sritb a tiny
wreath of roses, and a black and gold
foulard parasol, trimmed with yellow
lace, are en suite.
FOR THE FAIR SEX.
Fashion Notes.
Shepherds’ plaids are popular.
Lonisine silks in shepherds' plaicL
designs are in demand.
Shepherds’ plaids Lave come out in
blaok and white, navy blue and white,
end seal-brown and whitei
Large fichus of mull are embroidered
in Irish point designs, having one edge
mneh wider wrought than the other.
Venetian lace three inohes wide forms
a flat border for neokerohiefs of light
silk. The scalloped edges are turned
upward.
Tailor-made suits of shepherds’ plaid
black and white twilled wool make
very popular spring and snmmer travel
ing dresses.
Patent leather shoes are favorites for
wear at the seaside, because' they are
not affected by moistnre and are easily
cleaned of dost.
Stripes have yielded to plaids in the
making of the entire costnme, and;
plaids, in combinations, are in greater
favor than striped staffs.
A gray linen dress, with sweet peas
painted upon it, and with the same
flowers on hat and parasol, was the
toilet worn by a Frenoh marquise at the
Grand Prix.
Ivory-white surah dresses for summer
evening parties have the skirt covered
with flounoes of Venetian embroidery,
imitating the designs of old point
lacs.
Lace mitts reappear. Blaok mitts
for ladies and dark red for children are
most fashionable. The Margnerite
mitts of closely-woven silk are most
serviceable.
The tight-fitting habit basano of
Pekin, or. in other words, of satin and
velvet stripe alternating, is still a gar
ment that meets with mnch favor, many
ladies not caring for the "independent”
jacket of moire, while those of brocade,
whether of silk or velvet, have been
literally “dono to death.” The Pekin
fabrio, if not new, has never become
so commonly worn, and has also the
indubitable merit of wearing ad
mirably.
The Dressmaker's Place.
Inhere is the dressmaker who leads
one into extravagances which, at the
time, appear absolute necessities, bnt
which have the advantage at least of
resulting in " things of beauty ; ” and
there is her opposite, in whose Lands
one becomes an economist, and learns
tho secret of making gowns ont of
scraps; there ia the slattern who never
finishes off her seams—whose dresses
hang by a thread, so to speak, bnt
whose disposition is obliging—and
there is her sister workman, who knows
everybody’s affairs and tells them, who
repeats the makeshifts of her last cus
tomer, and who, you are confident, will
carry a strict aooount of yonr own short
comings to her next. Perhaps it is nd
wonder that, living in such an atmos
phere of fashion and frivolity, the
dressmaker sometimes becomes pos
sessed with an exaggerated idea of the
importance of fine clothing, especially
when she knows that the subject holds
such a prominent place in the minds
and conversation of people who ongbt
to be devoted to more ambitions things,
who are not obliged to earn their daily
bread by concentrating their thoughts
npon it—people who can dismiss the
matter from their minds, or delegate it
to another at pleasure. Unless she
takes special care to develop'herself in
other direction, in her honrs of recrea
tion, she endangers the vitality of her
intellectual life. Because one is a
dressmaker, shall she not speak the
shibboletu of the cultured woman ?.
Shall nothing but frills and furbelows
be expeoted of her ? Shall Bhe not
think of other soienoes than those of
shirring and plaiting and stitching.—
[Harper’s Bazar.
The Casting Out of the Bones.
At a recent meeting of the Ross
County (Ohio) Medical Society, all the
physicians present were pnzzled to the
verge of stupefaction by the mysterious
affliction of a woman, who considerately
offered herself for examination. One
of the doctors, who had previously
attended her, explained that, npon
several oooasions, he had removed from
a wound in her hand numerona pieces
of bone withont apparently diminishing
the supply. A similar operation was
then performed in the presence of tbe
■ooiety. In the general amazement
which followed, one of the members
retained sufficient sense to suggest a
microscopical examination of the bones
whioh bad been removed under their
eyes. This simple test proved that
they were chicken bones, whereupon
the woman, seeing that the game was
up, confessed that she had placed thorn
where they were found. She retnsed.
however, to say what motive had influ
enced her to undergo the consequent
pain and inoonvenieuce.
W. C. SMITH.. P.Qblisber.
IIE US OF INTEREST.
Os the 30,000,000 acres of land iu
Mississippi less than 5,000,000 is nnder
cultivation.
It is estimated that the ootton-worm
destroys $15,000,000 of the cotton crop
every year.
Three hundred and fifty-eight railway
accidents occurred in Belgium in 1880.
Os these 131 were due to collisions.
There are over 500,000 Frenoh Cana
dians in the New England states, and
the number is constantly increasing.
Os the Oanadian-Pacifio railroad 500
miles will be laid this snmmer. From
Montreal to the Pacific ocean the dis
tance is 2,850 miles.
Thirteen hundred and fifty-two miles
of railroad were constructed iu the
Southern States during the five months
from January 1 to Jnne 1.
A rich deposit of kaolin has been
discovered in Maoon connty, Ala. The
material is indispensable In the manu
facture of fire-briok.
The cultivation of mnshrooms is a
paying branch of gardening in France,
where this esculent is consumed every
year to the value of $1,800,000.
Professor C. V. Riley has deposited
iu the national museum at Washington
his collection of insects, comprising
150,000 speoimens and 30,000 species.
W. S. Ladd; a Portland (Oregon)
banker, has given $20,000 to bnild a
reform school in that State, and he will
pay all expenses connected with tha
school.
The Derby costnme is the new
English dress for ladies. It is made of
dark bine moslin, with a white piqne
or linen vest, and a masculine bine
jacket fastened by a single button at
the throat;
HUMOROUS.
When a professor distributes hia
circulars he has a pupil in his eye.
A Philadelphia counterfeiter named
“Gopher Bill” has been arrested, and
an exchange thinks the anthorities
adopted the course suggested by his
name.
A six-year old was seated in a barber’s
chair. "Well, my little man,” said the
barber, "how wonld yon like yonr hair
ent?” “Oh, like papa’s with a little
ronnd hole at the top.
One of the United States consuls iu
Italy began a magazine article twenty
five years ago, with this glowing state
ment : "Julias Caesar was a consul;
Napoleon Bonaparte was consul; and so
was I.”
Life's pleasures ; "Ami hurting you
badly ?” asked a Boston dentist of a
lady whose teeth he was fixing and who
was smiting horrible groans. "Oh, not
in the least, bnt I love to groan," was
the reply.
Did he steal the dog? “Yes, Judge,”
said the prisoner, “I admit that my
tronsers were tangled in the dog’s
teeth and that I dragged the animal
away, bnt if yon dan call that stealing
a dog no man on earth is safe from
committing orime.
“Dcn’t carry a million sovereigns in
your pockets for fifteen years. In that
time, we are told, they will lose in
weight, by wear and tear, one-half of
one per cent., or abont $25,000, and
this sum is an important item at the
present price of things. >
WORDS OF WISDOM.
Those are the most honorable who are
the most useful.
Inordinate demands should be met
with bold denials.
A beautifnl woman is a queen before
whose sceptre men bow.
Our deeds determine us as much as
we detertuine our deeds.
In the interchange ot thought use no
eoin but gold and silver.
Gold is either the fortune or the ruin
of mankind, according to its use.
It is no point of wisdom In a man to
beat his brains about anything impos
sible.
Duties and rights are inseparable
one cannot be delegated without the
other.
As too leng retirement weakens the
mind, so too mnch company dissi
pates it.
Trees in the forest may be barren,
bnt trees in the garden shonld be
fruitful.
The prompt performance of duty in
the past is the best pledge for t a tare
faithfulness.
It is the care of a very great part of
mankind to oonceal their indigenoe
from the rest.
A stern discipline pervales all
nature, whioh is a little cruel that it
may be very kind.
Despair and postponement are sow
ardioe and defeat. Men are born ta
succeed, not to faiL