North Carolina Newspapers

CHARLOTTE MESSENGER. VOL. I. NO. 15. The Future, When we are freed from self-inflicted chains <>ar life its earliest purpose best regains I Let down the curtain and put out the light; We’ll not, at least, indulge in revelry to-night. Why should we strive in vain to rear eur pro jects fair, That, if conceived, are merest castles in the air? Why frame our thoughts to meet tomorrow’s light ? Bright though they be, they sink in endless night * Before the potent spell that yet its mastery maintains, Blunts resolution, poisons e’en our veins. The tyrant who has ruled would fain arise, Mocking our hopes of future high emprise. Naught else avails—yet newer hopes have we In supreme self-control; we must, we will, be free. Too long that specious demon held control, Blasting the finer impulse of the soul, Imbruited manhood, warping youth, and cast The balefnl glare of madness on onr past We check unworthy impulse—pause to thinks And now we exorcise the demon drink. When weakened aspiration scarce survives Keason appears, and sternly moulds our lives. Bound are her passions to her wiser sway, And happier tnoughts expel the “horrors of the day.” Seronely, on unclouded brains will fell The welcome rest that Bolus yields to all. Morning shall dawn, yet surely ne’er beget White lips, the palsied brain, and sad regret. Riot and frenzy sleep with fell remorse. And mind grows brilliant in its onward, up ward course. THE LONG STRIKE. All along the banka of the Connecti cut river are little towns consisting almost wholly of great cotton factories ran by water power or steam, and the cottages of those that labor in them. Windham is one of these towns, and though perhaps yon might not find it on the map, for it is a very small place, it turns out thousands of yards of mus lin and cotton every year. All around the tall factory buildings are grouped the little red and whito dwellings of the weavers, like chickens around their mother hen. Usually these small houses are empty during working hours. All day long the hum and olatter of machinery shake the walls, and dense volumes of smoke pour from the tall chimneys. But one morning everything was changed. The doors of the factories were closed ; no smoke came from the chimneys, and no sound of machinery from the bnildings. Around the cot tages men stood in groups, with angry faces, scowling and talking in low tones. Presently the sound of a dram was heard. At this the men separated, and forming themselves into line, marched off. Abont a quarter of a mile from the village was an open field, where a tent had been erected for the accommoda tion of traveling lecturers, who were in the habit of stopping at Windham in the summer time. To this tent the men w< re going when Nelly Austin first saw them. Nelly lived all alone with bet mother in a small house near the tent She knew very little of factories or factory life, for she seldom went to the village, and had no companions living there. So when this crowd of men, with a boy beating a dram before them, came marching along the road, Nelly was astonished, and ran in the house to tell her mother, Mrs. Austin was sitting by the window sewing, and grew very white when Nelly spoke. “Mamma,” cried Nelly, “look out of the window at that big army of men t They are going into the tent.” As Nelly approaehed her mother she saw that there were tears in her eyes. “Are yon frightened, mamma?"she inquired. “Do you think they will hurt us?” “No, Nelly,” answered Mrs. Austin ; 'they are dissatisfied with something the owners of the factories have done, and so have come to the tent to talk it over. They do not want to work until they have their own way. That is what is called ‘striking.’ ” “Well, then, mamma,” inquired Nelly, “if they only mean to talk, why do you feel so badly and cry?” “Because, dear, years ago, when yon were a baby, there wasa strike at Wind bam that ended in a terrible fight, and yonr papa, who owned one of the fac tories, wav killed and onr house burned.’’ “How dreadful!” said Nelly. “1 am so sorry I” Then she kissed her mother softly, and with a very sober face went to tbe door and peeped ont. » Tbe orchard wall ran across one tide of the inclosure where the tent was placed. Hhe ran to tbe wall, and climb ing np on top, peeped down upon the assembled workmen. They aid not CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., SEPTEMBER 30, 1882. ook at all blood-thirsty. Some wore oven laughing; most of them had their pipee in their mouths, smoking. At a desk on one side of the roots stosd a man who was talking loudly to then* around him. Every now and than Nelly beard the wools “njastiee;* “never give up,” “master* and ms*.’* but she could make nothing of tham. Week after week the workmen earn* to the tent, until Nelly grew to aecwe tomed to their meetings that skis scarcely noticed them. But caw day. about tan 1 weeks after their first meet tag. when the strikers were assembled nadtr the tent, they talked so loudly and made so much noise that Nelly clambered tape® the orchard wall again, wandering what was going to happen. She noticed that there was no pleasant laughing and talking, as there had been at first; in stead of which, the men seemed to Nelly o be scolding and shaking their fists at one another. She tried Tery hud to make out what they were saying, bat am they all spoke at once she soon found that impossible. But stilt she sat perched nnder the apple-tree, until at last all bat two of their number got np and went away. These two kept their seats until the rest had disappeared down the road. Then they eaoae just outside of the tent and stood eleee to Nelly without observing her. “I will not bear it another dar.“ said one, looking very miserable and angry. “My wife and young ones are starring. Can I stand by and see that ? And jet you tell me to have patience f* “It’s all Mr. Willard’s fault. BOV* said the other, more quietly. “It he would give in, all the other owners would follow his example. Thev always do.” “Well, then,” answered Bill, shaking his fist, “he shall, if 1 have to kill'him myself.” "Go home, Bilk” said the other, in a warning voice, “and don’t talk non sense. It will come all right in time.” i Then he tamed away, and Ml B»U alone, scowling and muttering; while Nelly sat on the wall trembling with fear lest she might be discovered. When Bill thought himself alone, he drew out a heavy pistol from his pocket, and Nelly saw turn load It and thrust it into the breast of his red shirt. He then went back to the tent, and throw ing himself upon one of the benches, appeared to fall asleep. Nelly’s fright increased. “1 wonder,” she said to herself, “if he really means to kill old Mr. Willard?” Then she determined to he very brave. What was best to do she could not bll Finally she svid to herself, “I'll last stay where I am and watch.” Nelly sat with her eyes fixed on Bill for a long time, bat he did not stir until the clock in the Wiadkan chmieh struck six; then he stood up, and after looking all around, crossed the read and climbed the wall that inclosed Mr. Willard’s woods “There!” said Nelly; “now I know he means to shoot Mr Willard.” Nelly and even one living near knew that Mr. Willard, the rvcheot factory owner in Windham, walked throngh these woods alone every evening, about half past six to the peeteSce, Mr. Willard chose this way to the villages because it was the shortest and pleas antest. When Nelly saw Bill climb the wall, she knew it mwat be foe the parpeae at meeting Mr. Willard, as the man's home was quite in an opposite direction; so she jumped down and followed him quickly. As she reached the upper stone of tbe wall iaefcaing the wood, she oaught a glimpse of him harrying toward the road that led to the pmA office. But by the time she lad leached the ground he waa gone. So Nelly lew along without even glancing at the pretty golden-rod and sqnawberriee shat gleamed yellow and red between the trees. At last Nelly gained the wide toad and looked around. Something ted lying upon the ground attracted her attention. After a moment she per ceived that it was Bill’s red shirt, and that Bill himself waa stretch td a pea the ground behind a large sycamore tree, and he waa almost hidden in the long glass and weeds, Nelly stood in the path some time, fearing to peso him, he looked so angry and wicked. But she had determined to try and see Mr. Willard before Bilk ud so perhaps save his life, At lari she heard something that rounded like a footstep. This made her forget her dread of Bill, and she sprang part her hiding place like a frightened hate, and ■ever stopped antil she leached a small rustic gate that separatee the woods from the smooth green lawn satronnd ing Mr. Willard’s horn*. From where she stood Nelly eowld see the vide patch of the htown-akne house, and presently Mr Wtitan, him self appeared harrying across the prase When his land was ou the gale, Nelly draw back, for aha felt very timid M what ah# was abont to do. When Mi. Willard raw Nelly, We pat lon hi* gold-rimmed eyeglass and ex amined hsrolcMiv, a* though astonished . ak wreang moh a small girl *U alone in iithe woods, with a very worried expres .. stem in her eyas. I 1 * “Watt,” mid he. “who are you, little girlT -Nelly Anstin,” she answered, with ont moving. ,|| ’ Austral Austin!" repeated Mr. Wil li lard. “Are you the daughter of Mr. James Austin that was killed by the I mob at Windham some years ago?*. ii “Two, sir,” answered Nelly, “and I want to tell yon something.” “Tery weft,” said Mr. Willard, pat ting heron the head. “I am listening. Bwt speak quickly, for it is late, and t must pas? my letters before the mail WHtL* “Oh, Mr. Willard, ’ cried Nelly, ex eitedly seising his baud and pulling him toward the gate, “don’t go through the wood* to the postofUoe to night!" “Why not!” questioned the old gen tleman in surprise. “Because there’s a dreadful man wait ing behind the sycamore tree to kill yon with a big pistol, just as they did “How did you learn this, Nelly?’’ ashed Mr. Willard, wonderingly, and | looking closely at bier. Then Nelly related alt she had seen and heard from her hiaing place upon the orchard wall. [ Mr, Willard stood in silence for some momenta alter Nelly had finished bet story; then he lifted her upon his arm ' and sad: “Ton are a good kind girl, little Nelly, and l thank you. Do yon know that a man values his life more than anything else he possesses, and that you have saved mine? Now, Nelly, ask me ter something you wqnld like to have hwyonraelt. No matter what it is, you shall have it. Remember, lam a very “Would you really give me anything I ask tor?” said Nelly, looking inquir ingly into Mr. Willard’s face. “Tea. my dear, anything in my power. Now wonld yon like a carriage with two twaatifal little cream colored ponies to drive yourself? Or what wonld you like? out, Nelly, and don’t be afraid.” “No,” said Nelly, shaking her head. “Routes would be very nioe. But that's not it. What I want would cost ever so math more, l suppose. I want yon,” said she, hesitatingly, while she stroked his white beard softly with one hand, “togeawf give in to the poor people at “What a strange child!” said Mr. Willard, slowly. “And is that all, Nolly “Not quite,"answered Nelly. “There” something more that I feel bad about.’ “Bprak, dear, what is it?’’ i “Ton know the wicked man in the wood* waiting to kill yon? Well, he raid his wife and babies were starving. Phase don’t lint him in prison.” “Bat, Nelly," said Mr. Willard, very I kindly, “yon know this man hat done voty wrong. It is he and others like ihim who stir np discontent smong the factory people and oause these terrible ■strikes.' which oedy end in keeping > them idle tor weeks; until they grow so mi*, table that dreadful crimes are com —ayfifim 1 " “lea, hut 1 want you to forgive them. (Some people*ay they are very reason able in what they want this time, and yon can do it jnal this onoe. They are , ao poor and wretched and hungry. Please, please do!” Mr. Willard kraaed her. “Well Nelly,” ha said, “1 promise. The work-people shall have iheir own way, and Bill shall go unpunished. Now what shall I give i twir “Nothing, thank yon,” answered , X«Ut, dipping from hie arms. “I must go home; tor mamma doesn’t know ■where I am. Good-by, Mr, Willard; I thank yon ever so mnch for your l! "Good by, Nelly. Now kiss me, and - take oar* of yourself until I see yon again.” 1 Bent morning when the factory belle i rang ont, it was known nil over Wind i ham that the working people wets to , go to work on their own terms. Mr. ) Willard had given in. Onoe more tbe I doom were dung open, bleak smoke rwshodttom thechinneye, the machinery hummed and basaed, and busy, cheeif.il lovme ooaM b* seen hurrying to and fro, Bat a day or tiro later a meeting of i the factory people was called, and then ' the atosy waa told tint Mr. Willard bad - yielded, not to the demands of Bill and I has fellow*, bat to the prayer of a little I girl who ha I forgiven the men who i murdered her father, and who oould not be content to aae them suffer. Not long after, Mr. Witiard called on I Nelly’* mother, and sat talking with her ' lor nbmg while. An be took his leave he put a folded paper in Mia Austin's tend, telling her there waa something ' tor Nelly. After he was gone Mrs. l Austin opened the paper and called Kelly to her. t '"Thro," mud she, “ia what ia called a deed, and Mr. Willard has given you the house we live in and the woods yon love ao much,” “for mj own?’’ cried Nelly, openiog her eyes very wide. “Tee, dear,” answered her mother. “And the rabbits and squirrels and birds and everything in it?” “Yes, dear, all Os them.” I can not tell you all that Nelly said, or how much happiness there was in the little cottage. After this Nelly and Mr. Willard became dose frienJs. He called her hie “Wood Fairy,” and they could be seen almost every day wander ing hand in hand through Nelly's wood. In the Yellowstone. A merabsr of a. party in Yellowstone Park fell down the crater of a geyser while trying to secure a beautiful spec! men ou mineral formation. His oom panions shrieked as they saw him fall. They lowered a light into the crater as far as they coaid. - Nothing conld be seen. By dropping pebbles they dig. covered that at a depth of about fifty feet the crater was filled with water. They gave him up as lost, and, with sad hearts, left the scene. The next noon he came into camp with another pprtv of gentlemen, alive and well. He fell into the water, but came again to the surface, and hnng to a rook. He heard his friends' voices, bat conld not make them hear him. Ee stayed thete nntil 5 o’clook in the afternoon, when he heard a sound like distant thunder. Suddenly the water was rising, and con tinued to rise more rapidly. At last he found himself at the point from which he bad fallen. Although exhausted he exerted his remaining strength in climb ing to the surface. This reached, he managed to crawl some distance away from the month of the crater, where he lost consciousness. When he recovered he was being cared for by strangers the men who conducted him to his com rades. The water was warm, hut a few moments before he left it began to be hot and to boil furiously. Care of the Byes. Continual reading is apt to injnre the sight. Such reading as confines the eyes without interruption to the page is more injurious to the eyes than such as requires occasional pauses in order to keep up with the scope of thought novel reading is harder os the eyes than history or philosophy. A broad page taxes the eyes more than a narrow page, unless it is divided into two or three columns. Writing is easier for the eyes than copying, aa in the latter work one must read as well as write, and compare the copy with the original. Reading on the cars, or when in mo. tion, is mjurions to the eyes, as they are strained in trying to overcome the shifting of the page. Reading in an uncertain, changing, or flickering light is trying to the eyes, and shonld be avoided. The Violin. Os all the musical instruments the violin is the most endnrjng. Pianos wear out; wind instruments get battered .andold-fashioned ; the pipes of organs become scattered, and the original con struction is lost sight of. All kinds of novelties are introdnoed into Antes, bnt tbe sturdy violin stands on its own merits. Age and nse only improve it, and instead of new ones commanding the highest prices, as in the case with other instruments, it is the violins of the few Italian makers of the lost three centnriee that command fabulous prices. It is impossible to handle an aid violin without a feeling of veneration, when one refleots on the number of people who have piobably played on it, the weary hours it has beguiled, the soure of enjoyment it has been, and how well it has been loved. Green. No other color is so significant, so capable of tender, helpful, growing ex pression. It is in the enbdned art shades universally becoming; and it frsterniies with more colors than any other except that those that do not quarrel because of their fixed and eternal neutrality. Who does not remember what were called the “grass" greens and “apple” greens of a few yean ago. They were the greens of paper flags on St. Patrick'* day I Pat these greens by tbe greens of grass and 1< aves, even at their brightest, and one will be astonished at the quiet depth, the delicaey and subdued character of the natural tint—the immense differ ence between what we eall nature and. what is nature. A singular phenomenon occurred.im that section of Americas, Os., east of the Methodist clmroh. The wells of '«# entire neighborhood were blown dry. These wells up to the time of the gale were full of aster and unfailing. The explanation of this remarkable oooar rence is the exiatenoe of subterranean passages, and the violent agitation on the rarfeoe opened ohannelu of escape for th* water to these. W. C. SMITH, PflbMer. HUMOROUS. Mike Weloh, of Colorado, managed to squander SIOO in one year without drinking a drop of whishy or betting on a horse raoe. He bet on base ball. A country which can pan out 550,000,- 000 bushels of wheat in such a season as this cannot be sat down on by any power on earth, and don’t yon for get itt The longest encumber ever grown in the South is now on exhibition in North Carolina. It stopped an inch short of font feet and contains sixty eases of colic. It is announced that the Prinoe of Wales' owes over 9300,000, and yet people are anxions to give him more credit. There are several good things abont being a prince. When Illinois lightning can jaok the boots off a farmer witbont even scorch ing his feet, what’s tbe use of Eastern speculators trying to make a comer on boot jacks ? A Brooklyn blacksmith held ont a hammer on his hand for seven minutes to win a bet of twenty-five cents, and tbe doctors say he won't nse that arm again for a year. Mrs. Livermore always has some fe male friend who wants a place on » newspaper. Ont of ten she has secured places for eight could hold their places four weeks. A Washington shopkeeper says that females employed in the departments are head over heels in debt, and wonld take home grindstones if they conld get trusted for them. The bill of a mosquito is a finer piece of work than any jeweler conld bring out, and has more science than any patent yet applied for, and yet man thinks only of getting a whaok at the insect with his whole fist. The New York letter-carrier arrested the other day for opening letters had always advised his companions that honesty was ol more value than green backs, but he found that he oonldn't buy pools on base ball with honesty. The Atlanta Constitution has never yet found a farmer wise enough to ex plain how red ears of corn can come from white kernels. What's the odds, so long as finding a red ear at a husk ing bee entitles you to kiss the best looking girl iu the crowd ? Why He Left Iler. “ Do you love me?" The words came softly forth from ruby lips still dewy with the kisses of the one to whom they were spoken, and Gladys McMnrtry knew that Ethelbert Frelinghnysen was no dissembler, no trifler with women’s hearts, bnt ever kept within the precinots of his sonl a tiny shrine at which there burned for ever and ever a flame of pare and pas sionless affection for her upon whom he had lavished the treasures of his heart. Wild and reckless though he might sometimes be, caring naught for the voice of conscience, but plunging madly forward into the darksome laby rinths of sin, even at times Bmoking cigarettes, Gladys knew that her voice could oier call him back to parity and repentance, her dimpled hand lead him in paths that were gemmed with tbe roses of innocenoe. And so, when he asked the question that she loved so well to hear, there came to her pretty face a joyons smile, and the drooping lips that overhung the lnxuriant month qnivered with pleasure. But she did not answer him in words. Patting her dimpled arms around his neck, she kissed him in the warm, North Side fashion that waa ao dear to his heart, and then a little head nestled confid ingly upon his shoulder, and the gentle pressure of a soft, warm hand told him the story of how be had won the first affection of a yonng, pure and trusting heart. “Bat this is not all,” she said. “ Kisses and embraces and fair words are very pleasant things—sweet Ups and warm hearts and loving eyes—bnt truth and sincerity and loyalty and purity are very muoh fairer and infin itely surer.” “ Do you mean this ?” asked Ethel bert, bending forward and looking at Gladys with a fixed, nailed-at-the cornen-and-olinohed-on-the- other-side look. " I do,” she answered, speaking the words in the alow, New York Evening Post fashion that became the sensuous grace of her Kenosha feet so well. “ Then,” said rithelbert, with a grave tenderness that aliened what a daisy liar he was, " I will not deceive you longer.” 1 “ What do yon mean ?” ». , „ , Gladys spoke hurriedly. “ I mean," he feptlhd, “ that I have joined the AritHoe Oreata Benevoleat and Protective Association.” And. turning suddenly, he began cbasiDg a horse-car, I saving the gtri who loved him so wsll along and. desolate.