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.