CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
YOL. I. NO. 21.
Signs of the Times.j
“ Dear Jones ”
< I will not do as he
Requests, and I am fervent
In saying so) —" and I remain
Your most obedient servant.”
** Dear Brown ’*
(He’s not the company
A wise man would select) —
“ And pray believe me, sir, I am
Yours, with profound respect.”
** Dear Tom,
Your favor is to hand”—
But I decline to lend
The small amount he mentions)—“and
As ever, I’m your friend.”
•* Dear Smith ”
(I like him not at all;
I tolerate him merely ;
He bores me when he makes a call)—
“ And I am yours sincerely.”
“ Dear Will ”
(It certainly would please
Me if, for lack of breath,
He’d go where he would never freeze) —
“ With love, I’m yours till death.”
“ Dear Ned ”
(I hope he’ll not again
Ask favors from me) —“ and
I have the honor to remain
Yours humbly to command.”
“ Dear Friends—
When we are obliged to sign
Our names to letters only,
Both much and nothing we combine
By saying just—
“ Yours truly.”
11. C. Dodge*,
BORROWING A PARSON.
If Miss Matty Rice had yawned once
since breakfast, she had yawned a score
of times; and even pretty Eveleen was
growing drowsy over her embroidery
by the window. For it was a hope
lessly rainy day in mid-October, with
the sky veiled in dark gray mist, the
tinted leaves floating down into matted
layers of dim color around the columns
of the piazza, and the tall dahlias nearly
prostrated by the steady down-pour.
No walks, no gathering of ferns,
mosses, berries, in the still, delicious
woods; no dreamy rambles to the
mountain-tops—and, worst and saddest
of all, nothing to read.
“And I won’t be deluded into work
ing worsteds,” said Matty, “nor yet
into crewels and Kensington stitch.
Eveleen, where is that delightful little
book that papa was reading aloud out
of last night?”
“Do you mean the ‘Recreations of a
Country Parson ?’ ” said Eveleen, com
paring two shades of rose-colored wool.
“If that’s the name of it —yes.”
“He took it to the city with him,”
said Eveleen. “I saw it sticking out
of his coat-pocket, when he was run
ning for the train.”
“How provoking I” sighed Matty,
clasping her dimpled hands above her
head; “when it’s the book of all books
that I should like to read on a day like
this.”
“Mr. Winton has a copy of it,” said
Eveleen, threading a worsted-needle
with the very darkest shade of garnet.
“But what good will that do me ?”
said Matty, disconsolately.
“Borrow it,” suggested Eveleen.
“Everybody borrows everything in a
place like this; and) I’m sure Mr.
Winton would be glad to oblige you.”
“But how?” urged Matty. “The
hotel is at least half a mile away.”
“Send Nora.”
“Nora, indeed 1 I don’t suppose
Nora evre did an errand in her life,”
said Matty.
“Then it’s high time she began,”
laughingly suggested Eveleen. “Write
a note, and—”
“I’d rather send a verbal message,”
said Matty; “and I wouldn’t send at all,
If I wasn’t dying to read the end of
that essay that papa began last night.”
Nora, deep in the energetic occupa
tion of blacking the kitchen-stove, was
summoned upstairs.
"Nora,” said Matty, impressively, “I
want you to go to the hotel. You know
where the hotel is!”
“Sure an’ I do, miss, said Nora, with
wide-open mouth and eyes of intense
attention.
“ And ask for Mr. Winton, and tell
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., NOVEMBER 11, 1882.
him that Miss Matty Bice sends her
compliments, and would like to “ Bor
row the Recreations of a Country Par
son.”
“Yis’m,” said Nora.
“You're sure you understand?”
“Yis’m, an’ why wouldn’t I?”
promptly retorted Nora, rather nettled
by this implied aspersion on her powers
of comprehension.
“And come back as quick as you can.”
“Sure an’ it’s me that will,” said
Nora.
And presently the two sisters caught
a glimpse of her stout figure beneath
the folds of a rusty waterproof cloak,
with a mammoth cotton umbrella held
over her head, disappearing behind
the huge leaves of the rhododendron
hedge.
“ I hope she won’t be long,” said
Matty.
“ Why should she ? ” said serene
Eveleen.
And she went on composedly with
the pomegranate blossom that she was
embroidering, while Matty sat down to
the little cabinet piano and tried to
pick out the notes of some dreamy
little refrain, which had haunted her
ever since she heard it at the opera
last winter.
And Nora, plunging down the
ravine like anything but a wood
nymph, plashed her way to the hotel,
going a quarter of a mile out of her
road on account of a spotted snake and
stopping for a good chat with a fellow-
Hibernian who was on his way to the
postofflee,
“There,” said Nora, as she turned
away from Teddy O'Hara, “an’ sure I’ve
forgotten the name aS clane as if I
niver had heard it.”
“Whose name was it, alanna?” con
solingly demanded Colonel Ross’ coach
man, whose soft nothings had put the
message so completely out of Nora’s
head.
“There was somethin’ in it about
the ‘Rectory of a Country Parson,’ ”
said Nora twisting herself into the
letter S, with the violent attempt at
recollection to which she forced her
self.
“There ain’t no rectory hereabouts,”
said Teddy. “Sure it ain’t built yet!
But'the parson he’s up on the hotel
steps. I seen him there as I came be
yant. A tall young gintleman, with a
high vest—for all the wurreld like
Father Rockwell—an’ spectacles as
gintale as ye plaze. Is it a message
you’ve got for him, Nora mavour
een?”
“I’m to borrow him !” said Nora
fixing her dull, glassy glare on Teddy
O’hara’s astonished face.
“To—borrow him?” repeated Teddy.
“Yis, sure!” Nora answered, dog
gedly.
Teddy uttered a whistle.
“It’s the quarest loan as iver I heard
of,” said he. “An’ if it’s a fair ques
tion, "Who is it wants him?”
“Miss Matty Rice’s compliments,”
repeated Nora with parrot-like promp
titude, “and she wants to borrow the
parson.”
Teddy exploded into a laugh.
“Sure, an’ if it was leap year,” said
he, “I should think it meant some
thing. I niver heard such a message
in all me bom days before. But I
must make haste, or the post will be
too late for me.”
Away trudged Teddy, stopping ever
and anon to laugh in the dripping
woods, while Nora kept on to the
hotel, all unconscious of the curious
transformation that had befallen her
luckless message.
“Is the parson here?” demanded she,
shaking her umbrella until it sent
forth a miniature waterspout of flying
drops, and stamping the mud off her
feet on the steps of the mountain
hotel, which was still well filled with
the guests who had lingered to see the
splendors of the October frosts among
the woods.
The hotel clerk, who had just come
out to glance at the barometer, stared
at her ; the young ladies on the wide
verandahs giggled ; the stout old gen
tlemen, who were walking up and
down the boards to gain their daily
two miles of exercise, stopped short;
and a spectacled, grave-looking young
man, who was talking with a lady just
beyond, glanced around, as if he
fancied that he was personally in
terested.
“Do you want the—clergyman?”
said the hotel clerk, doubtful, yet
polite.
“Is it a stone-mason or a chimney
swape I’d be manin', d’ye think?” re
torted Nora, beginning to imaginethat
qho was being made game of.
“I am the clergyman,” said the spec
tacled gentleman, stepping courteously
forward at this juncture. “Is there
anything I can do for you ?”
“Miss Matty Rice’s compliments,”
said Nora, without in the least abating
the shrillness of her voice, “an’ she
wants to borrow you.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Fon
taine, “but—l’m not quite sure that
I understand you, my good woman ?”
“I’m spakin’ the English language,
sure,” said Nora, somewhat affrontfd.
“She wants to borrow you.”
“But what for?” said the parson,
ignoring the titters of the group which
was now fast gathering on the veran
dah.
“To amuse herself wid this rainy
day,” said Nora. “You're to come
back wid me, pl’ase, I was to bring
you. ,Miss Matty Rice’s compliments,
and—”
“Really,” said Mr. Fontaine, “this is
very strange.”
“The Rices live in the little Swiss
—O no - V T, , . ...,-
the hotel clerk. “Gentleman goes up
and down to the city every day. Keeps
a little pony carriage, with—”
“You’re to come back wid me,
please,” said Nora. “‘The Rectory,’ or
‘The Country Parson.’ Miss Matty
Rice’s compliments, and —”
Mr. Fontaine, hurriedly surveying
the situation in his mind’s eye, decided
that it waif better to obey this strange
behest.
And putting on his water-proof wrap,
and arming himself with a light silk
umbrella, he accompanied Nora Mc-
Shane, to the great buzzing and whis
pering of the group on the verandah.
Miss Rice was listlessly watching
Eveleen’s embroidery, as the door
bounced open and Nora rushed in, ex
claiming :
“Here he is! I’ve brought him!”
“Brought whom ?” said Matty, in sur
prise.
“The country parson,” said Nora.
“There wasn’t no rectory. I inquired
for it, but it wasn’t built,”
“What on earth is the girl talking
about?” said Matty, in amazement.
And then Mr. Fontaine walked in,
holding his hat in his hand.
“I am the clergyman,” said he. “Can
I be of any use?”
Matty colored a deep cherry-pink.
“Oh, dear, I am so sorry!” she
faltered; “but there is some dreadful
mistake here. I sent Nora to the hotel
to borrow a book, and she has brought
me back—a man!”
“A bookt" said Mr. Fontaine.
“Yes,” Baid Matty, trying harder and
harder to keep back her laughter as
the comic side of the circumstance
forced itself upon her. “ ‘The Recrea
tions of a Country Parson.’ Mr. Paul
Winton has it.”
Mr. Fontaine began to laugh. So
did Matty and Eveleen; and in five
minutes they were the best friends in
the world. Mr. Fontaine stayed to
i lunch, and they never knew how that
: long, rainy morning whirled itself
' away, until at last the blue rifts of sky
spread their banners above the pine
trees on old Sky-Top, and every shining
1 drop was transformed into a tiny rain
! bow.
Mr. Fontaine came often after that.
> So did Mr. Paul Winton, the owner of
l the genuine “Country Parson." And
when the family closed their cottage, I
and returned to the city, the two young
men discovered that the journey to
Philadelphia was not such a very long
one. And there is every probability
that the lacking rectory will be built i
in the spring, and that the country
parson will bring a pretty young wife
there; at least so says popular gossip.
“Dear, stupid old Nora!” says Matty
Rice, “it was all her doing. And she
shall have a home with me always.”
“But blunders don’t always terminate
so successfully,” Eveleen gravely
remarks.
Matty shakes her head. She will not
concede this to be a blunder at all
Only—a coincidence.
Helen Fokrest Graves.
Lost His Wager.
The late French Ambassador to the
Russian court always carried a very
valuable gold cigarette-case, which had
been presented to him by the Emperor.
General Ignatieff advised the Ambas
sador to be careful of his prize, as St.
Petersburg was full of pickpockets.
Whereupon the diplomatist offered to
lay a wager that he would go all over
the city during his stay there, with the
cigarette-case about hipa, without j
losing it. General Ignatieff accepted the ,
wager, and invited the Ambassador to
take a cup of tea with him at the Rasp- j
berry Bush, a noted drinking place,
informing him that it was a sight '
worth seeing. They repaired to this I
establishment and ordered tea, after !
which the Ambassador pulled out his I
cigarette-case, offered the General a
cigarette, lighted one himself, and re- j
turned the case to his breast pocket,
I.—i:- ’ - - •• - - |
descended to the street the Ambassador ,
was astonished to find that Ms ciga
rette case had gone, and that a piece
of soap of the same shape and size was
left in its stead. The proprietor was
informed of the theft and the trinket '
was restored to him on the following
day.
Wedding Rings.
Most women have a sincere interest
in betrothal and wedding rings, so that
a few facts picked up concerning them
may not come amiss. The first has al
tered noticeably in shape and setting.
A pure white diamond, the only suit
able gem, is underset in short claws so
that the stone hides the setting com
pletely. Polished gold is preferred to
Roman gold. The shank is oval and
tapers from the gem. There is neither
enamel nor engraving on its surface,
and inscriptions are cut inside as the
purchaser may order. It is but an old
fashion revived, and one which will be
liked. In the last thirty years wedding
rings have changed twice in style, from
the narrow, double circlet to the polish
ed oval; and lastly the plain, wide, flat
band, which is now also preferable in
polished gold. A fourth style, and one
eminently in harmony with the present
temper of romantic sentiment, might !
well revive the ornament which deco- j
rated a ring discovered long ago in
Egyptian ruins. It represented two ;
cats, sitting back to back, and between
them the goddess of love, who smiles
sweetly on vacancy while they glare
around at each other in genuine Kil
kenny fashion. Such rings are gener-:
ally made to order.
A mining superintendent in the
West says that by the use of the chro
nograph he ascertained the fact that
the long pump bobs in his mine moved
down at the top before they stopped
coming up at the bottom —that is, they
went both ways at once. This seems
absurd, but it is rational, for the pump
bob being 3,000 feet long, and made of
wood, some time elapses before motion
at one end is transmitted through to
the other. It would be interesting to
know exactly where the neutral point
a.— MechanicalEngineer.
The horse is a native of Africa,
whence he was first introduced into
Egypt, and thence into other countries
W. C. SMITH. Pam
The Pasture Bars.
If all the skies, I do believe,
Had all the year withholden
Their gala tints to guild that eve
It would na been more golden;
The wee birds would na sing so fine
If they had been invited;
The cows came proudly in a line,
As if they were delighted.
We linger’d by the pasture bars
Till sunset changed to gloaming,
Till twilight clustered into stars,,
And through the clouds went roaming;
And when the moon glowed up the sky
It found us still belating ;
Yet none but my own Joe and I
Knew why the cows were waiting.
—James Judson Lord.
HUMOR OF THE DAT.
When a passenger boards the train
what is the bill of fare?
Pretty new ballad by the house
keeper, dedicated to the grocer: “Take
Back the Flour.”
It is supposed that Adam set the
earliest winter fashion since the only
coat he wore was a bare skin.
“Sometliing left over from the fight
of yesterday," was the Duke of Wel
lington’s definition of hash.
Albert Sehwill is an Indianapolis
man who has had nineteen fights be
cause somebody said: “Give him to the
hogs.”—Boston Post.
It has been ungallantly said that the
telephone does what society rules have
always been unequal to—compels
women who use it to talk one at a
time.
Yesterday we saw a man with a
black eye, a' skun nose find arm in a
sling. He had a revolver and wanted
to know who invented hammocks.—
lloston Post.
What is the difference between
freight and cargo? A horse-car con
ductor says the pa. sengorsujuaks: the
A sad-hearted poetess asks in the
columns of the Philadelphia Bulletin-.
“Why dt we sing?” Perhaps it’s be
cause you don’t know what the public
feeling is in your immediate neighbor
hood.
In some of the mountainous sections
of Pennsylvania real estate has taken
a sudden downward tendency. About
two hundred acres slid down into the
valley the other day. It will be some
time before it goes up to its former
height,— Siftings.
The Young Han and the Pie.
A certain young man who was al
ways unhappy if not equipped in the
latest style from head to foot, once de
termined to eat a pie every day for his
luncheon, in order to save sufficient
money to purchase a diamond ring. So
he went to a pie shop, hung his new
derby on the peg, and sat down to the
counter on a high stool with a number
of mechanics and devoured a custard
pie. On departing he found somemis
creant had appropriated his new derby
and left in its stead an old straw hat
with a purple band—a shattered relic
of the departed summer. The moral
of this fable teaches us two things:
First, that we should never sacrifice
the inner for the outer man, and sec
ond, that we should avoid pie.— Puck.
St. Isaac’s, the great cathedral at St
Petersburg, which was finished in 1859
! and cost $25,000,000, is slowly sinking
i into the ground, and the authorities do
: not know how to stop it. The Rus
! sian capital is built upon a marsh, and
I the site of St Isaac’s is on one of its
softest parts. Over $1,000,000 was
; originally spent in driving piles, but
the building lias never been firm, and
now threatens to topple over at one
t corner. A recent examination showed
i that on one side the columns had sepa
rated from the architrave, leaving a
space of three inches between. The
| roof was at once lightened by remov
ing large stones, but new fissures ap
peared as the work went on; the work
' men left in fear and the engineers gave
up the job as a bad one. Since then
nothing has been done except to hold
consultations and reject unpractical
plans for saving the building.
She said she wanted a ticket to
Wyandotte and return, and the pale
gentlemanly agent with the dark mus
tache asked as he took up the paste
board: “Single?” “It ain’t any of
your- business as I know,” the re
sponded, tartly. “ I might have been
married a dozen times if I’d a felt like
providin’ for some poor shiftless wretch
of a manf’