CHARLOTTE MESSENGER. VOL. I. NO. 11. A Woman’s Heart. Though you should come and kneel low at my feet, And weep in blood and tears of agony, It would not bring one single pang to me, Nor stir my heart out of its quiet beat. There was a time when any word you spoke, When but the sound of your melodious voice Would thrill me through and make my hear 4 rejoice; ur wish was law, but now the spell is broke. And though an angel, with a shining brow, Should come from heaven and speak to me and say: “Go with this man and be his own alway,” I would refuse, I would not trust you now. Though you should pray me, writhing in white pain one last caress, and I should know That you were draining out the dregs of woe, I would not let you hold my hand again. This is a woman’s love—a woman’s pride. There is a stream that never can be crossed. It rolls between us; and the trust I lost Has sunk forever in the rushing tide. MASTER OR MAN? Lois Brand leaned over the low rail ing of the bridge to watch the ripples on the waters for one brief idle mo ment, and the minnows darting abont in that restless fashion of theirs which made her think of the shnttles living back and forth through the warp in the weaving-room of the great factory where day by day, she toiled for the bread she ate and the clothes she wore. She wish ed she might forget everything con nected with the factory for a little while. If she conld, she thought, it wonld be rest. Bnt she had watched the shuttle flying back and forth so long that the sight of almost any mov ing thing brought it before her. And for so many years had she listened to the thnnder and crash of the great looms that she heard them everywhere. She often wondered if she should ever get the sound of them out of her ears. As she stood there on the bridge thinking in a spiritless kind of way of what a pleasant thing life must be when there is no such drudgery, no such ter rible monotony in it as had been hers since childhood, shotting ont like crnel hands that bar a door, all she had hoped for and longed for most, a step around her. She turned and saw Dick Evans. His honest face grew bright ut sight of her. To him she was the one woman in the world. “Good-morning, Dick,” she said, in a tired kind of way. “Are yon going to the mill? 1 ’ “Yes; of course,” he answered, as if it were scarcely possible for him to be going anywhere else. “What a fool £ was to ask such a question,” she said. “As if there was any other place for usl When we get into the mill once we never get out till death puts an end to the work. If it wasn’t for Fan, I wouldn’t care much liow soon my work was over, I think, though I never liked to think of dying. Bnt if one were dead, he’d know some thing abont rest, wouldn’t he? That’s more than any of the mill-hands will while they live.” “I don’t like to hear you talk in that way, Lois,” Dick said, in that grave, gentle way of his, when talking to this woman he loved. “There’s no need of your killing yourself at the loom as you are doing, it’s only for you to say Yes, Lois, and you know there is nothing I'd be gladder to hear.” “i know, Dick,” she answered, a little more tenderly, bnt with such bitterness in her voice yet. “I am sure 1 could be quite happy with yon, Dick, bnt there’s Fan. It wouldn’t be right for me to marry you and bring you such a load as two women, and one of them helpless as a baby, would be. You’d find your hands full with me alone, I’m afraid, and when yon come to think of Fan 1 Ho, Diok; when I think of the burden both of ns wonld be, I can’t make it seem that it would be right for me to say Yes.” “Didn't I know all about Fan when I asked you to marry me?” oried Dick. “Do you think I would have asked you any such question if I hadn't been will ing to take care of both of you ? You know better, Lois. I’ve thought the matter all over, and I’m willing to run the risk of the consequences. Poor Fan wouldn’t be half the burden to me. if yon were to marry me, that she is to you. I can work well now. I’m laying up a little money every year. A man can work better if be thinks he’s work ing for some one who loves him. Now, it doesn’t seem as if I was working for anybody or anything in particular. Don’t yon know that the thought of borne puts life and energy into a man ? If I knew that you were waiting for me in a home of our own, no matter how humble it was, the bardeet day’s work would seem pleasant to me. The thought of the kiss CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., SEPTEMBER 2, 1882. you’d give me at the door wonld help me more than the promise of a better place or extra wages. You’d better say Yes, Lois.” Clang! clang! clang I rang ont the factory bell liko a great brazen voice that bade men and women who heard it cease thinking of anything blse but work. Lois shivered. The sound of that bell was so tangled n). in her life that the two could never be separated, she thought, as she roused herself from her listless mood and turned towards the factory. “I don't think I’d better take yonr advice, Dick,” she said, with a little shake of her head. “Not yet a while, anyway. It wouldn’t be right, I think.” “I don’t ask yon to say yes till you’ve thought it all over,” he Baid, walking along beside her, through the street leading to the factory. “Don’t let the thought of Fan, or the hard work I’ll have to do; keep you from saying yes, if yon love me, Lois. If you love me, you've no right to say no. That’s the way to look at it, Lois.’’ They went into the factory together. As they crossed the threshold the machinery started into motion. The wheels began to turn in their tireless, swift way. and everywhere was din and danger. Drc ams might answer for ont of doors, bnt there was no place, no time for them here. No time to think of love, either. The warp was waiting for her at her loom. It made Lois think of a spider’s web. The old factory seemed more like a great spider to her to-day than it ever had before. How many men and women were caught fast in its webs, she thought, as she looked down the long room and saw the white, wan, tired faces by the looms. It was nearly noon when Balph Lev ers on came to her loom and paused there to watch her at her work. Balph Leverson was her employer. This great factory and the men and women in it were his. He stoed there, silently watching her deft, well-trained fingers as they moved among the threads for many minutes. By and by “Those fingers of yours seem to work of themselves, Miss Brand,” he said. “Yes,” answered Lois, scarcely paus ing to lcok up, “weare machines.” She said it with an accent of bitter ness in her voice. Poor Lois 1 This life was wearing her out. It was making her old before her time, and the weari ness of it told upon her temper and embittered her thoughts. “I want to talk to yon,” young Lever son said, leaning over the loefm, and pushing back the lever that caused the iron-brained machine, which seemed to keep up a steady thinking of one thing from morning to night, to stop its tireless motion. “Well 1" Lois folded her hands upon the iron frame and waited for him to speak. He scarcely seemed to know what to say. He began once and paused. “Something was.wrong abont my last web. I suppose,” she said, at last. “Don’t be afraid to find fault, Mr. Leverson. We are used to that. Mill hands don't mind such trifles. We can’t afford to be sensitive, you know. Such luxuries aren’t for us.” “If yon think I came here to talk about such things, you are mistaken,” he said. “I—l suppose, you never thought about such a thing as—as my caring for you, Lois?” She looked at him in blank amaze ment. Had she gone crazy at last ? She had often said that she believed the roar of the looms wonld make her insane some day. “You are surprised,” he said. “I supposed you would be. I do not wonder, for it comes to you suddenly. I ought to have made yon understand by degrees, perhaps, but I have always been an abrupt man, and you must pardon me, I do care for you, Miss Brand. I’ve watched your face for a long time, and I've grown fond of it. Will you be my wife?” Lois had often wondered why he was so kind to her. Now she understood. He was a perfect gentleman. She knew thfht he was in earnest, for he was too honorable to stoop to deceit—too honorable to allow any doubt of his motives. She thought abont it in a swift, mnddled way. She thought about Dick, and her heart gave a little thrill at recollections of his love for her that was like a reaching out of hands to him. And yet Diok was poor—miser ably poor. Leverson was rich. He could give her all the beautiful things she had craved so ling. A oonfused vision of pictnrea and flowers, of rich dresses and beautiful books went whirl ing through her brain to the accom paniment of the grinding, pitiless “ I can’t think now,” she cried, put ting up both her bands to her throb bing brow. “ Don’t ask me to. Some other time I’ll tell you.” “Take your own time to think it over in,” he said. “ Try to think favor ably, Lois, for I want you very much— I, need you.” When she went back to her loom after dinner she was more like a machine than ever, for she scarcely comprehended the details of her work. It is likely that she attended to them all, but she did so mechanically. Her thoughts were elsewhere. The wheels went tound and round. Her thoughts went on and on. Should she choose for her heart ? If she did, she wonld choose Dick—dear, patient, willing Dick. Should she choose for her selfish self ? Then she thought of what Leverson’s wealth could give her. The machinery seemed to be crash ing at her with iron jaws. She fan cied it was a great animal snarling at her. “I’m going home,” she cried, at length. “I’m sick, dizzy, faint. If I stay here I shall go crazy. I’ve got to get away by myself and think. I shall have no rest till I get it all thought cut.” She put on her bonnet and shawl, and went ont into the cool October air. How peaceful the blue hills looked far off She wished she were one of them. Then nothing would fret her; her restlessness would be gone. Oh, which to choose—which to choose ? The words made a litt'e verse ot them selves, and her brain set them to the monotonous tone of turning spindles and darting shuttles. She went towards home in a slow, roundabout way. She saw men and women and little children. Some of them bowed or spoke to her. She did not recognize one face among them all. Her thoughts were not with the things about her. She seemed a thou sand miles away from earth and every body. Suddenly the great factory bell filled the air with a swift clangor, that hurt her aching head as if cruel hands had smote it. “Something has happened,” she cried turning to look back. But the houses hid the factory from her sight. The bell rang out its hearse alarm. She ran up the street. When she reached the end of the block she saw a great cloud of smoke breaking above the roofs of the building between her and the factory. Then she knew the truth. The factory was on fire. “Oh, Dick, Dick 1” she thought, and j hurried towards the burning building. Perhaps there was something her tired hands could do to help the poor wretches who were trying to escape j death. What would become of them, j of her. if the factory burned ? She knew, before she reached it, that the factory could not be saved. The | windows were loopholes of fire. The . eaves were wreathed with flames that coiled and uncoiled themselves like I writhing serpents. Suddenly a great cry rang ont from the crowd, and she saw hands pointing to the window of a room over the main i entrance. Looking np. she saw Lever son standing there. His face was very white. He must have been asleep, men | said, and the fire had roused him from ! what might have been a pleasant slum- i her, to put him face to face with an awful danger. “It is death for him,” thought Lois, | with stifled breath. “There’s no ponsi- j ble way of escape.” “I’ll try to save him,” cried a voice she knew—Dick’s voice, and there was something grand in the sound of it. Then she saw him fighting his way I through the flames, and the last glimpse of bis face showed her how brave it was I in the wild tempest of fire and smoke, j She held her breath, and waited, pale and trembling, while her heait kept saying over and over, in a prayerful kind ! of way: ‘ Dear Dick 1 Ob, God save him 1” She knew then, in tlie face of the j awful danger, that the lover who was risking his life so nobly was more to her than the lover he was risking his life for conld ever be. She had made her choice at last. Suddenly, throngh the flame and smoke, she canght sight of Dick’s face at the window of Leverson’* room. He had Leverson in his arms. “Throw np a rope,” shouted Dick. “Be quick, for God’s sake.” Some strong band (long the line he asked for. He fastened one end of it beneath the arms of the nneonscions Leverson, and lowered him to the ground just as the flames burst out of the window below him, wrapping the whole front of the mill in a seething sheet of fire. A groan went throngh the crowd. There was no hope for Dick. He had saved a life at the loss of his own. “Dick, Diekl” rang ont a woman’s voice, sharp and shrill, and full of tern ble entreaty. “Try to save yourself for my sake!" He heard and leaned far ont of the widow in a wild desire to save his life for the sake of the women be loved. I He saw the wire of one of the lightning rods not a foot away from the window. Mayhe it was strong enough to hold his ! weight. But could be go throngh the hell of fire beneath him? It seemed death to venture. It was certainly death to stay where he was. Lois bad called him. He would make a wild effort to save himself. He leaned ont and grasped the red, and swung himself over the window sill, and slipped down, down, down I The rod blistered his hands, bnt he clung to it The flames billowed np all abont him, but he neld his breath, and slid down, down, down! The last be re membered was that he was in the midst ot a whirlpool of fire, with the thought in his brain that he was always going down, dewn. down! The first thing he remembered after that was a woman’s face bending over him. and a woman's tears dropping on his face, and then a woman's kiss was on his lips, and a woman’s voice said, brokenly: ‘-Oh, Dick! poor noble, brave, dear Deck!” And he saw Lois above him and thought be had got to heaven. They told him he was a hero. Lever son came and took his poor, wounded hands in his, and told him he had saved his life; and that he should do great things for him to prove his gratitude. And he did! And Lais is satisfied with the choiee she made. larnlras Escape of a Boy. A nice-year-old son of Dock Lung, who attends to the bridge at the foot of Fourteenth street, Louisville, Ky., had a startling fall and a very narrow escape from death recently. Workmen have for some days been engaged in painting the cross beams under the bridge and had taken np some boards so that they could pass down a rope-ladder suspend ed below. The children had been told to keep away from this opening and of course they did not obey. This little fellow ventured to the opening and in terested himself, whileno one was near, looking through the opening. He grew dizzy, and losing his balance slipped through the opening, and missing the ladder fell a distune of ninety feet into the swift, shallow water below. Some people below saw the body falling and rushed to rhe edge of the water, expect ing to find the little fellow mangled on the rocks which form the bed of the river at that point. They were very agreeably surprised upon reaching the bank to see the boy some distance be low making liis way toward the bank. He was gathered np, wet to the skin and considerably startled, bnt entirely sound. Where the boy fell the water is not over two feet deep, and the bed is composed of jagged rocks, and the wonder is that he was not literally mangled. His wonderful escape is at tributed to the fact that the water at that point runs with a very swift, strong current, and it is supposed that the force of the current swept the body away, not allowing it to strike the stones. The little fellow was carried np the hank and joyously received at home. He appeared a little startled and bewildered, bnt did not seem to realize the very close call he had stood. Try Igain. A gentleman was once standing by a little brook watching its bounding, gurgling waters. In the midst of his musings he noticed scores of little min nows making their way np the stream, and in the direction of a shoal whicb was a foot or more high, and over which the clear sparkling waters were leaping. They halted a moment or two, as if to i survey the surroundings. -•What now ?' inquired the gentle man. “Canth se liule fellows continue their journey any further?” He soon saw that they wanted to go further up the stream, and were only resting and looking oat the best course to puisne in order to continue their journey to the unexplored little lakelet that lay just above the shoal. AU at once they arranged themselves like a little column of soldiers and darted up the foaming little shoal, but the rapid current dashed them back in confusion. A moment's rest, and tney are again in the spnyej waters with like results. For an hoar or more they repented their efforts; each time gaining some little advantage. At last, after scores and scores of trials, they bounded over the ohasl into the beautiful lakelet, seem ingly the happiest little folks in the world. “Well,' said the gentleman, “here is my lessen. I’ll never again give up trying when I undertake anything. I did not see bow these little people of the brock conld possibly scale the shoal —it eeemed impassable, bnt they were determined to cross it This was their purpose, and they never ceased trying until they were sporting in the waters above it 1 shall never give np again.* Youth is the taeasl and silken flower of life; age is tie full com, ripe and solid in the oar. f. C. SMITH, Flutter. The Home of Hope. Hope, when the Virtues left Pandora’s box, Remained behind. Safe in one corner stowed, She needed not the custody of looks, Nor wished nor sought a more secure abode. And after,wbat was dark her flame made bright, Where all seemed lost she showed the vista blest; Nor left the spot unless to bring the light Os comfort to some sorrow-stricken breast. And this trait marks her still. E’en as of old, Her sweet rays pierce the water of all woe Or cheer the chill of coming days, so cold— And start, in dreams at least, joy’s sparkling flow. But when, far so it haps, her wings to fly, Fatigued, refuse to use their 'eustomed art. She seeks the box where Tom’s assessments lie t Or more familiar quarters in his heart. VABIETIES. Archery isn’t popular—beaux are scarce. It is not until after a seal is dead that it 9 skin is dyed. Learn to take life ai it comes, bnt be sure to make the best of it before it goes. One dollar in gold now bnys $240 of Peruvian money, and $240 cf Peruvian money bnys an every day straw hat. Pleasure is the mere accident of oar being, and work its natural and most holy necessity. According to a Denver (Col.) paper a digger in that city has fonnd a whale tooth and part of a jaw. in a stratum of sand eight feet under the Bnrface. George Lessard, born 1777, appeared lately in the court of records, Montreal, accompanying his wife, cited as a wit ness. He married only in 1878, It is an admitted fact that men who nse their brains live longer, other things being equal, than those who do not. Professor Gorini of Lodi has discover ed a chemical eolation by which a human body can be annihilated in twenty minutes at a few shillings’ expense. Light unbleached silk cloth, tnssare grenadine and veiling are worked in raised patterns, and ribbon for bows to trim dresses of these fabrics are bro caded in designs to match. Arizona covers an area of 72,000,000 acres of land, four-tenths of which is mineral bearing. It is larger than New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware combined. Since the spring of 1880 Memphis has paved eight and a half miles of streets and pat down forty miles of sewers and forty miles of snbsoil pipes. The cost was $500,000. New Bedford, Mass., claims that in one year’s time, when the mills now being bnilt are in operation, that city will be the third in the Union in the manufacture of ootton goods. Be independent; don’t 1 ang around, and wait for somebody else to go ahead. Break yonr own path. Don’t pnt off to-day’s work until to-morrow in hopes that it will be dona for you. Bear in mind the solemn and stn pendons troth that yon are preparing tor eternity, and act In such away that yon may not fear to have the snnligm ot eternity stream full upon all yonr finished deeds. She was a Cleveland lady, and she stood watching a boat loaded with ioe. “What is that boat loaded with?” “Ice,” was the reply. “Oh, my 1” she exclaim ed, in surprise, *'lf the horrid staff should melt, the water would sink the boat 1" This is wbat a reporter says to his girl: “Meet me on the corner, Where they sell ice cream. Life shall be for yon, love, Like a blissful dream. Cling to me, my darling, As vine hugs the oak, And when you’re done eating, I shall be dead broke.” A convict says he was sent to prison for being dishonest and yet he is com pelled every day to ent ont pieces of pasteboard, which are pnt between the soles of the cheap shoes made there and pained off on the innocent public as eather. According to the last oensus report the State of Kentacky produces over one third, or thirty-six per eent. of the entire tobacco crop ot onr country. The entire product of tobacco in the country in 1880 was 473,107,573 pounds, or nine and one-half pounds for every inhabi tant. The sewer inspector of Cleveland re cently opened a clogged sewer and fonnd that the roots of a tree had grown and foroed their way into a socket joint, and, penetrating the sever, com pletely filled it up. The roots bad clasped themselves to firmly abont the pipe that it took the united strength ot too or three men to remove them.

Page Text

This is the computer-generated OCR text representation of this newspaper page. It may be empty, if no text could be automatically recognized. This data is also available in Plain Text and XML formats.

Return to page view