CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. I. NO. 25.
The (nicies*.
Said the first little chicken,
With a rjneer little squirm
“ I wish I could find
A fat little worm!”
Said the next-little thicken.
With an edd little sbrng :
“ I wish 1 conld find
A fat little bag!”
Said the third little chicken,
With a sharp little squeal:
“ I wish I could find
Some nice yellow meal'”
Said the fourth little chicken,
With a small sigh of grief:
“ I wish I conld find
A green little leaf 1”
Snid the fifth little chicken,
With a faint little moan :
“ T wish I conld find
A wee gravel-stone 1”
"Now, roe here 1” said the mother.
From the green garden-patch :
“If yon want any breakfast,
Just come here and scratch !”
— Franks . Beadii.
PAPA’S BLESSING.
" I have asked Wynn to come out
this evening to talk over a little busi
ness, Dora. If he should arrive before
I get here you must see to him until I
come, lie kind and polite to him, my
dear. lie is really a very well-mean
ing and unassuming fellow, and the
most useful bookkeeper I have ever
had. He has seemed n little out of
sorts lately, and I am sure would be
most grateful for any little attention
from yon.”
This Richard Blair, the rich tea j
merchant, had said to his daughter in
the morning, on leaving his pretty;
villa at Richmond for the city, with j
an amount of pompous condescension I
kind.
Dora was an obedient daughter, as
her reception to her father’s guest that
evening plainly showed; but certainly i
the worthy tea merchant would have |
found abundant cause to retract his
opinion as to the same guest’s modest !
and unassuming character if he had
been a witness of his demeanor on that
occasion ; for no sooner had the door
closed upon the servant who ushered
him into the presence of his young
mistress than—totally unabashed and
unblushing—he took the young girl
into his arms, only releasing her after
leaving upon her ripe red lips at least
half a dozen warm kisses.
Dora, not appearing in the least sur
prised or disconcerted at this greeting,
bore unflinchingly the situation for
fully two minutes before she blushing
ly drew back and endeavored to bring
into something like orcer her soft
brown hair, which, with the dainty
ruffles at her throat, had become some
what disarranged by the welcome she
had so obediently given her father’s
guest.
“ It is a long time since 1 have seen
you, Harry,” she remarked, with a be
wildering glance from beneath the
thick lashes shading the large gray j
eyes.
“ I should think so, indeed—quite an
age !" responded the bookkeeper, dis
mally. “ I managed to get away half
an hour before the time your father
told me he should be home, hoping to
sec you alone; but he’ll be sure to turn
up before he’s expected—it’s just my
luck r
“ Harry, do you know why my father ;
has sent for you to-night?”
” I haven’t an idea, except that it’s j
something about the branch business
in Hong Kong.”
“ I can enlighten you a little, then,
t hough I hardly think you will be as
pleased as my father seems to expect.
One of the men in the house out there
has just died; he had rather a respon
sible position, I believe, and papa
wants to send you out to take his
placti.”
“As if anything could induce me to
leave England and you, Dora?” cried
the young man. “Why, the separation '
would probably be for years 1”
■' I am afraid you must go, Harry,”
was the girl’s rather sorrowful re
sponse. “ You know my father; your
refusal to obey his wishes would prob
ably make something very like an
enemy of him, ami render matters be
tween us even more hopeless than
t hey are at present.”
"Dora, I mustspeak to your father,”
cried the young man, excitedly. “ When
he finds that his daughter’s happiness
is involved he can’t lie heartless enough
to refuse our united prayers. lie
se.riis to feel rather kindly toward me.
Anything would tie better than this
uncertainty!”
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C„ DECEMBER 9, 1882.
“No, dear Harry. Believe me, it
would only be exchanging uncertainty
for positive resignation of all our
hopes. I know my father well, and it
is useless to hide from myself and vou
that he loves money far better than his
child. He has declared over and over
peain that he will never give his con
sent to my marriage with a man poorer
than himself; and I know he will
never retract his word.”
“And you advise me to gooff to
I China, with the probability of never
| seeing you again, Dora? Nothing
can be worse than that, surely!”
“ Oil, Harry. I must have time to
, think. I heard of it only this morn-
I in?.” cried Dora, on the verge of tears.
“There comes papa now, and I have
so m ueh still to say to you. I must see
you again. Could you manage tocome
down on Thursday at this time for
1 half an hour? My father is going to
| a dinner in the city on that evening.”
; “Os course 1 can,” responded Harry,
| just as the door opened to admit the
' master of the establishment.
“ Oh, Wynn, you arrived first 1
; Prompt as ever—a most excellent
; quality in a young man. I hope my
; daughter lias made you comfortable—
] eh, Dora?”
t “I tried to do so, papa,” responded
| the young lady, demurely. “ I sup
’ pose my company can be dispensed
, with now?”
“ Yes, my dear, you may go.”
“ Well, Wynn,” began the merchant,
, when the two men were left alone, as
. lie walked up and down the room, evi
. dently satisfied with himself and all
; the world, “ I have to tell you that
there is excellent news from America;
I we have closed the contract with that
j firm in New York of which you have
’! heard me speak, and the transaction
will bring us in something very like
j twenty thousand pounds. Not at all a
; bad job—eh, Wynn?”
! will interest you more nearly, my boy!
We have just beard of the deatli of
Jones, our secretary at Hong Kong,
' and I am called upon to send some one
jto till bis place. It’s rather a'good po
; sition, and we need some one we can
' trust. I’ve lieen rather pleased with
the way you've done your duties late
ly, and I've been thinking—hem!—in
short, I've made up my mind to give
you the place.”
“ But, sir,” began Wynn, in despera
tion
“ Oh, no thanks! I know you appre
ciate it and all ttiat, of course, and I’m
sure we shall be satisfied with you.
Could you be ready to go next
month ?”
“ I will think it over, sir. I suppose
it is not necessary to give you my an
swer for a day or two ?”
“ No, certainly not,” replied the mer
chant, a little’ surprised at Wynn’s
way of receiving such a piece of good
fortune.
Then followed an announcement
which, for an instant, caused the
bookkeeper to turn hot and cold with
lightning rapidity.
“ Perhaps you will be interwted in a
I piece of family news which has given
me the greatest satisfaction. Wynn.
My daughter is to lie married ?”
“ Impossible! I mean, sir, I bad
heard nothing of it,” stammered poor
Wynn.
i “Eh?” exclaimed the merchant,
staring at his companion in astonish
ment. “ No, I suppose not. The fact
of the matter is Miss Blair doesn’t
■: know of it herself yet; but she will,
jof course, be as pleased as I am. The
1 1 letter only came to-day from an old
1 1 friend of mine who has made millions
—millions, my boy—in sugar, and
, writes proposing a marriage between
, his only son and my, daughter. The
young man has seen my Dora soine
:, where, it seems, and was quite smitten
■ with the sly little puss. He is coming
: to us on a visit next week. Now,
i haven’t I cause for rejoicing to-day,
Wynn ?”
i “Pray accept my congratulations,
I sir,” replied the bookkeeper, lugubri
i \ ously.
I “By the way, Wynn.” the merchant
' 1 went on, after a moment’s pause de
■ | voted to golden anticipations, ” it has
■ | struck me that you have been rather
■ j down in the mouth lat t.jy. Are you
II out of health?”
■ I “ Oil, no,sir, thank you—not at all!’’
i i responded the young man, hurriedly,
i rather disconcerted by this unusual so
’ licitude in his behalf,
i ! The delight with which the merchant
i! had that day heard of the success of
i business schemes likely to make an Im
i I portant addition to the banking ac
. i count of the firm, and especially an
> I ticipations of the brilliant marriage to
’be made by bis daughter, had filled
- 11 his heart with a sort of comfortable
t condescending benevolence and good
■ j will to all the world, which descended
; even to the affairs of so unimportant a
i personage as his bookkeeper.
1 1 “ Have you had any bad news?”
• j ” No, sir.”
■; “ Perhaps you are in debt. Don’t be
■ j afraid to tell me the truth, Wynn. I
1 1 feel quite a fatherly interest in you, I
j assure yon, and I might do something
11 to help you. I shouldn’t at all mind
' i advancing a hundred pounds or so.”
;j “I thank yon most gratefully, Mr.
Blair; hut I have no debts.”
“ Then there is nothing else for it,
boy; you certainly are in love!”
Wynn started, blushing to the very
roots of his hair, but could find no
words to reply, while the- merchant
1 stared at him for a moment, and then
laughed uproariously, rubbing his
hands with glee as be exclaimed
“ There, I have it at last! Come,
out with it, young man; what’s the
trouble? won’t she have you?”
“ Yes. sir,” stammered Wynn, in an
agony; “but she is rich and I am poor.
Her father would never consent.”
“Pooh, pooh! Is that all? You
surely ought to be able to manage that
somehow. Is it indiscreet to ask who
the young lady is? Do I know the
family?”
“1 am afraid—it wouldn’t do—to
mention her name,” said poor Wynn,
looking wildly about for some means
of escape.
“ Well, do 1 know the father?”
“Yes, sir.”
The merchant reflected for a mo
ment, then brought his fist down upon
the table with vehemence.
“I have it now!”
Wynn turned fairly cold.
“You needn't say "Yes’ or ‘No,’ nor
commit yourself in any way; but I
j think I’ve got your secret It’s old
| Brooks’ daughter! I’ve. ._«een , sau j
I'd like to be even with hiny Any i
way, whoever the girl is, I’m disposed
j to help you.”
“How, sir?” gasped Wynn.
“ Why—hem ! fit' the old fellow
won’t give his consent, why shouldn’t
you do without it? What do you think
of eloping with her?"
“What, sir?” cried Wynn, hardly
believing his ears. “You really
advise me to do that?”
“ Yes—why not? What's more. I’ll
give you the price of the license for a
wedding present and lend you my
carriage any night you like to be off,
besides throwing in my blessing into
the bargain! I know a clergyman a
few miles from bore who would do the
job willingly, especially if I give you a
note to him. I did him a favor once.”
“And you positively will give us
i your blessing and assistance, no matter
who the young lady may be?” ex
claimed the bookkeeper, almost in
voluntarily.
“ Positively,” replied his employer,
firm in the conviction that here was a
delightful opportunity of becoming
revenged upon a man who had assailed
him in his weakest point—his pocket.
“I will help you without asking any
questions. We must teach the grasp
ing old sinner that his daughter's affec
tions are not an artiide of merchandise.
Nobody need be ashamed of you for
a son-in-law, Wynn, my boy.”
“Thank you, sir,” responded the
young man, faintly.
“Just consult the young woman,
j and if it's all right in that quarter let
| me know the day, and the carriage
; and the price of the license shall not
jbe wanting. I shall not go back from
my promise.”
Wynn did not fail to keep bis ap
i pointment at Richmond on the follow
ing Thursday evening, finding Clara
at home and alone, as he had hoped;
and the next morning, when Mr. Blair
entered his counting-house, he found
his bookkeeper waiting anxiously to
speak to him.
“ Well, Wynn, is anything the mat
ter?” asked the merchant, a little sur
prised at seeing the young man at so
unusual an hour. “ Has anything new
turned up about the American affair?”
“No, sir,” Wynn stammered, blush
ing like the veriest schoolgirl. “I am
not here to speak of business. 1 must
beg your pardon for trespassing upon
your time at this hour; but you were
so very kind a few days ago as to
promise- —”
“ Well, out with it, man !’’
“ That you would assist me—”
“Aba—the young woman ! 1 re
j member, now !” exclaimed Mr. Blair,
J laughing heartily. “So you have seen
’ her? What does she think of my
I plan?”
j “Mhc has consented, sir," faltered
i the bookkeeper, keeping his face carc
i ■ fully hidden behind the lid of a desk, a!
• i which, to ail appearances, he w
1 1 searching busily. “On the day after
. to-morrow evening, if convenient to
1 you— ”
i “ The sooner the better! Jlv boy, I
am quite ready to keep my word.” As
he spoke, the merchant turned to his
desk and filled up a check, which he
handed to his companion. “There in
tbs wedding present of which I spoke.
Os course, you must get a special li
cense. My carriage will also be at
; your service at whatever time and
place you choose to appoint. By the
way, what does the young lady think
of the China project? I hope your
I marriage will not affect your decision
| with regard to it.”
! “She is anxious that I should do
whatever is most pleasing to you, sir.”
“ Alt. 1 see she is a sensible woman !
T should like to call in the course of
the evening, after the ceremony is
! over, and offer my congratulations, if
1 you and Mr -. Wynn intend to remain
! in London.”
| “ Thank you, sir, I was going to ask
j something of. the kind. Vv’e expect to
I lie at tile Grosvenor hotel.”
“Shouldyou like a week’s holiday?”
“Not at present, thank you,” an
swered Wynn, feeling guiltily that he
was extremely likely to he given a
much more prolonged holiday than he
desired.
“ Very well, lav boy. I wish you
all manner of luck. Return in 'the
course of the morning and I will give
you the letter I promised to my friend
the clergyman.”
About 9 o’clock p. si. on the day of
the marriage Mr. Blair, adorned with j
the unusual splendor of light kid gloves j
and a white necktie, and carrying an i
enormous bouquet of roses and orange I
blossoms, entered the Grosvenor hotel j
and inquired for Mr. and Mrs. Wynn. j
TIo . .iifte 1/J/l *U fl ai - - i
the lady.
“Then I will wait in their rooms i
until they arrive; it can't he long now,” j
replied the merchant; and lie was (
shown into the pleasant, little sitting
room reserved for the pair whom the
astute clerk liad already settled in his
own mind to be bride and groom.
Mr. Blair had not long to wait,
though in his present state of good
humor lie could very easily have borne
a longer delay than the half hour j
he passed in well-satisfied musing over I
! the good luck which lately seemed to
j have attended his every movement,
i He had received a letter from the
I young man whom he hoped to call his
i son-in-law, appointing a day for his
j visit to Richmond, and the prospect of
this marriage was ahove all a source of
; self-congratulation with him.
Then, too, ttiis evening's event af
| forded him indescribable amusement,
t as he pictured to himself the wrath
| and consternation of the man who, he
j had firmly convinced himself, had in
i jured him deeply when he discovered
I that his only daughter had bestowed
| herself upon an impecunious book-
I keeper. All alone to himself Mr. Blair
chuckled with malicious enjoyment
| over this most delightful of jokes, and
| rejoiced in his own share in bringing
j his enemy to confusion.
| “ I wonder how soon papa is to be
! told of the happy event,” he soUlo
j quized. “Who knows? Perhaps it
| will be a family party to-night!”
Later the merchant bad taken out
; his poeketbook and was deep in an
| abstract calculation as to certain
weighty transactions which might be
undertaken when a little of the wealth
of his prospective son-in-law had fil
tered into the firm, when there was a
sound of voices and footsteps in tlie
hall, pausing at the door, and Mr.
Blair knew that the bridal party had
arrived.
Thrusting the book into his pocket
and seizing the bouquet lie rose and
stood in readiness, when the door was
thrown open by the waiter, and, sure
enough, Wynn entered, having on his
arm a lady closely veiled.
The merchant advanced, bowing low,
with outstretched band, which was
rather hesitatingly taken by the book
keeper, who muttered only a few half
incoherent words of thanks in reply
to the congratulations offered him.
Air. Blair scarcely noticed the young
man’s evident confusion, so occupied
w as he in vainly trying to discover.Jiis
companion's identity through the thick
veil which she had not as yet raised.
There seemed to him sometiung oddly
familiar in her figure, though, much
to bis ehagrin. lie saw instantly that
she was certainly some inches shorter
than Miss Brooks.
“And your w ife ? Am I not to have
the pleasure of making her acquaint-
W, C, SMITH, Pflblisfcer.
1 j ancc?” fie said, feeling somehow
i vaguely uneasy.
Then the veil was slowly raised, to
i rzveal the face of the merchant's own
| daughter, pale, frightened, beseeching;
! but still for a moment the man failed
> to understand.
; j “ Dora,” he said, in bewilderment.
- - “ what are you doing here?”
;! Dead silence followed; then thwfair
estot'-the merchant's castles m Spain
! fell with a crash
“ fan it bo possible that you are this
man’s wife?”
“Yes, clear father, it is quite true."
said tlie girl’s pleading voice. “Won’t
! you try to forgh e us? It can’t make
j much difference to you. You can’t miss
j me, you know, for you never needed
me, and I needed so sorely some one to
! love me!”
The bookkeeper was holding his
wife’s hand firmly all the time, and
only drew her a little closer to him as
he added:
“We are far from deserving it, I
■ know, but i hope you don’t forget that
i you promised us vour blessing, Air.
Blair.”
j “ This is a great disappointment to
me, as you of course must .know,
Dora,” lie’ said at last, turning to his
companions, who were awaiting his
words in almost breathless suspense.
“ However, the deed is done, and I
suppose the most sensible tbing is to
make the best of what I consider a
rather bad job. 1 promised you my
blessing, Wynn, anti you shall have it,
upon two conditions. The first is that
! you—and X suppose your wife—shall
| go to China, as I proposed.”
“ We are quite willing, sir,” thebook
' keeper replied, eagerly. “ And tlm
second condition?”
“That you never, either of you, dis
close to any human being who was the
proirot t and instigator of your elope
inflnl ”
Misleading Titles.
Unfortunately, writers are not care
ful in their choice of names, and titles
are occasionally adopted which, instead
of explaining the nature of the book,
serve only to mislead the buyer. Mr.
Ruskin, who is noted for such unintel
ligible titles as “ I’urs Clavigrca", and
“ Sesame and Lilies,” issued a theolog
ical discourse under the name of “ A
, Treatise on Sheepfolds,” thus leading
! astray many librarians and indexers,
as well as ' unsuspecting farmers and
shepherds. The “ Diversions of Pur
lev," at the time of its publication, was
ordered by a village book-club under
the impression that it was a book of
; amusing games. The “ Essay on Irish
j Bulls” was another work which was
thought by some folks to ’.cal with
live stocks. “ Moths,” a novel by
“Ouida," has been asked for under the
impression that it was an entomolog
ical work, and Charles Kingsley’s
“ Yeast,” by those in search of infor
mation on the Torula cerevisiip, or
yeast plant. Coleridge’s “Ancient
Mariner” was sold largely to s“afaring
| men. who concluded from the name
that it had some relation to nautical
matters.
| Married in Presence of Royalty.
| An Indian youth and maiden belong
| ing to one of the tribes of British CoF
| umbia who had intended to postpone
their marriage until such time as the
I instructions of their missionary should
I have fitted them to go through the
; ceremony after the manner of Chris
! tians, changed their minds when the
i Princess Louise arrived in their settle-
I ment. It was their ardent desire to be
married in the presence of their “great
; white mother’s daughter,” and the
| princess cheerfully acquiesced. The
| friends of the contracting parties were
i arranged in two long rows facing each
! other, the chiefs, the bride and groom
| and the nearest relatives occupying a
! cross seat at the head of the two rows.
; The father of the bride made an ad
! dress, in the course of which he said
! that he was giving his daughter to the
; young man and that thereafter she
I would he the same as dead to him.
I Thereupon a large dish was placed
| upon the ground, into which the friends
| of the groom cast money to compen
; sate tlie old man for his loss. This con
solatory offering occujiied considerable
time, and when the is,unt was made
I the dish was found to contain SIOO.
| The ceremony ended with a feast.
I Subscribers to the Boomerang who
j find cross-bones and skull with crest of
metallic burial casket drawn in blood
on the wrapper of their paper will
know that itieir subscription lias ex
| pired and that something ha“ got to be
done.— Boomtrana.