CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. I. NO. 3/
At the End of the Journey*
We’re most to the end of our journey,
My darling, and isn’t it true
That ’mid all our losses and crosses
There’s always been plenty for two ?
And though of the dower of fortune
We’ve had but a niggardly share,
Our cupboard was never so empty
We hadn’t a loaf we could spare.
It seems like a dream that I ever
Had courage to seek and to woo
For my wife such a beautiful blossom,
So fair an exotic as you.
’Twas part of the dream that you chose me
From others—you bade them depart— .
Preferring to riches and station
The wealth of a true, loving heart.
How little we thought of the future,
Or guessed of the trials we’d meet
As out on life’s journey we started
That morning so tenderly sweet! ,
And some of onr comrades, my darling,
Whose prospects were brighter than ours,
Have broken their vows, and love’s altar
Is hung with funereal flowers.
Put we have been true to each other,
My darling, and never a word
That might sever the bond of affection
From your lips or mine has been beard.
The love that we’ve cherished so fondly,
Has kept our hearts faithful and warm :
Has strengthened, sustained, encouraged,
And sheltered from many a storm.
And now that our journey’s most over,
We’ve nothing to mourn or regret,
For love—our dear, constant companion—
My darling, abides with us yet.
E’en death has no power to part us,
So long as onr friendship endures;
Your heart would be seeking for mine, love,
And mine enters heaven with yours.
MISS HAGGERTY.
The two stood face to face in the
splendid drawing-room of a palatial
mansion—one, the patrician mistress of
this home of lnxnry and splendor,
a leader of society, the ver ycreme dn la
creme of the richest npper crust—Mrs.
Augustus Lord ; the other, the gover
ness whom she was just in the act of
engaging for her two young daughters
—a lady more aristocratic in bearing,
more attractive in person,'than herself,
and not one whit behind her in the
quiet, heighbred elegance of her man
ners.
Her references were of a character to
satisfy the mcst fastidious, while her
accomplishments, which Mrs. Lord
tested for herself, were assured beyond
that lady's criticism. Such music as
thrilled the chords of the giand piano
under the tench of her small white
hands was rarely heard, even in that
centre of fashion and culture ; while as
to French—Mrs. Lord, who bad lived
ir. Paris and who flattered herself that
her own rendering of that language
was beyond reproach, now found herself
ont-Parisianed by this would-be-gov
erness whose smoothly-flowing accents
were the purest of the pnre. There
fore, Mrs. Lord bad nothing farther to
do bnt to engage her valuable services
forthwith, and thank kind fortune for
having sent her such a rare exponent
of grace and perfect breeding.
Reolining upon a sofa at the farther
end of the long drawing-room, and
smiling with amused interest over the
pages of his novel, was an almost un
noticed spectator to this interview, to
whom the singular gifts and graces of
the govei ness appealed with a power as
strong as it was new.
This was Fred. Marburg, Mrs. Lord's
handsome, insouciant brother, so cool
and nnimpressible that_ she had long
despaired of ever getting him settled in
life as a respectable Benedict. And lit
tle wonder that she held that opinion,
in view of his past career of indiffer
ence to the fair sex. Bnt the story bad
not been told her of his last summer's
romance among tke New Hampshire
hills, where a lovely image had been so
strongly outlined upon his carelesheart
that it was even now dividing his atten
tion with one of the most charmingly
impossible heroines of “Ouida’ spages.
Vet, even with this donble entertain
ment for the diversion of his mind, the
wondrous power of the stranger’s mutio
bad sent an nnwonted thrill through
his cool pulse, and impelled him to cast
more than one fartive, scrutinizing
glance at the interesting woman who
had called it forth.
There she stood—Miss Haggerty—a
slender, creatnre of medium height,
her dead-white complexion giving
strange intensity to the expressive
dark eyes, with their level, delicate
brows, and to the mobile lips whose
low downed Parisian accents rame to his
ear with an nnd< rthrill of passion in
keeping with her mtuio and her face.
Yet, more than all else, was be struck
with the singnlsr ease and elegance of
her manner, which had so perfectly
“ that repose
Which stamps the caste of Verede Vers.”
That calm, serenity which Flora
Blake, wi)fe all lpr igi|gcent loveliness
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., TtVXU 188»
and all her sweet girl-woman ways, had
not. And if Fred. Mai bnrg had any
special weakness for certain attributes
beyond womanly purity of character, it
was that one held iu common with his
lady-sister for high birth and aristo
cratic ‘'repose' - of bearing. These had
far greater value in the eyes of both
than mere vulgar fortune, and they
would more readily have welcomed to
their cxclnsive circle a lady in Miss
Haggeity's position than the purely
monied scion of a “shoddy" millionaire.
Therefore, in this patricicn family
Miss Haggerty was in no danger of
slights or insults because of her inferior
station. On the contrary, she was the
instructress of Mrs. Lord's children,
and treated more as a delightful guest
than as a hired dependent.
As to the “delightlulness” of her
society, there could be no question.
Who bnt Miss Haggerty could evoke
such sonl stirring harmony from those
responsive keys ? Who, so well as she,
conld grasp the mcst snbtle thought of
poet or philosopher, and give to it its
finest interpretation through the medium
of such a low and thrillingly modulated
voice ? Who else conld possibly be so
useful to Mrs. Lord when giving enter
tainments to her “dear five hundred
friends" as this accomplished governess,
with her high-born, easy grace, gliding
from room to room, .from gnest to gueßt,
with her brilliant powers of entertain
ing, and ever-ready tact in nsing them.
“Blood will tell, ” declared Mrs.
Lord, for, at least, the hundredth time.
“I never saw such perfect charm of
manner as Kate Haggerty possesses.
There is something in it more sugges
tive of theconrt circles of Europe than
of a poor, obsenre governess. I am
sure I shouldn't know what to do with
out her!”
Perhaps it never occurred to Mrs.
Lord to dream that her cool-headed,
nnimpressible brother might come to
have the same opinion ; or qnite likely,
if it did, the idea would not have
troubled her, since Miss Haggerty, in
all save wealth, which Mrs. Lord was
too thoroughly well-bom to care for,
was unexceptionable as any lady in the
land.
At all events,’ as lime wore on the
governess became more indispensible
to both sister and brother, and her
quiet, gliding grace and singularly
fascinating countenance came slowly to
URurp the place in the latter’s heart
hitherto held sucred to the memory of
Flora Blake.
Fred. Marbnrg, being a man of the
world, was not likely to pledge himself
too hastily to any one of Eve’s beguil
ing daughters; yet, like all men who
reverence the sacred name of “mother,”
he had his womanly ideal, and Flora
Blake had come nearer to filling this
than any other woman he bad ever
known.
Had she been here now her lovely
character, shining forth in every line
ament of an innocent, and winningly
fair face, might have held his heart
against the daDgerons charms to which
he was hourly exposed. Bnt far away,
as she was, in her quiet home among
the bills, the memory of the past sum
mer and the part her sweet face bad in
it was gradually fading like a dream
from his mind in the warm dawn of a
new experience.
Before Fred. Marbnrg knew it, bis
long-unyielding heart bad surrendered
to this gracefnl siren and was beating
with a quickened pnlse at the lightest
sound of her low thrilling voice. Bnt
wbat wonder ? She was one of those
rare women who, apparently uncon-
Bcions of their own magnetic power,
seem born to exert it with strange sue
cess over all with whom they come in
contact.
It was a warm, lovely night in Octo
ber when Fred first seriously admitted
to himself that he was conquered. His
sister was away, giving herself and the
children a late holiday at the old
family homestead in New England, so,
for a week past, Miss Haggerty’s only
task had been the pleasant one of mak
ing home attractive to the lonely young
bachelor who was left in her oharge.
No ode understood that art better
than herself, and the highest pfoof
of her success lay in the fact that
at this very moment the handsome
object of her tender care was restlessly
pacing his chamber-floor, trying man
fully to pnt away a temptation that was
tngging at his heart—the temptation to
ask her, at once to become bia wife.
Life with her wonld tie sweeter than
the poeiqs which she read to him, with
suck a world of meaning in her flexible
liqnid tones —he bad no donbt of that.
And the question of her poverty he
Lever though of—for he bad wealth
enough for both. But somehow Flora
Blake's sad eyes arose before his mind
to-night snd he felt strangely troubled
by them.
To be snre, there had been no direot
pledges of love between them ; only
those si-ntimentst drives and strolls so
common at a summer-resort; that half
tandsr . vpterebnnge of words and
glances which may mean so much, or
nothing; no tangible sign of its being
anything more than a summer's flirta
tion. Bnt he had meant more, and she
knew it. Even now he conld fancy that
earnest, loving little face sad with
“hope deferred.” Yet he knew that he
did not now love Flora Blake as he
loved this other woman into whose sweet
thralldom' he had driited balf-uncon
con ciously. And Fred Marsbnrg, who
believed himself to be a man of honor,
felt his cheekß flashing painfally in the
darkness, as he threw himself into a
chair beside theopen window and tried
to think it ont.
As he did so, he observed two figures
entering through a side-gate into the
grounds, having just turned off from
the street, and half-mechanically, he
watched them steadily approach, too
bnsy with his own thoughts to notice
who they were. Bnt as they came
nearer he became aware that the lady
was Miss Haggerty, for there was no
mistaking that gracefnl, gliding fignre,
partially disguised, though it was in a
leng, dark cloak which completely
enveloped her. He saw with, surprise,
that she was in the company of some
strange man at that late hour of the
night when he had supposed her to be
sleeping the sweet sleep of innocence
at home. They were Fpeaking rapidly,
and in low tones, the Italian language,
bnt he conld distinguish nothing save
the fervent "addio," which the man
mattered as he left her.
A jealons pain shot through Fred’s
heart at the sight. What conld that
strange Italian be to the woman whom
he wished to honor with the proffer of
his own name and fortune ? Forgetting
Flora Blake entirely, forgetting, also,
that he had no right, as yet, to question
the actions of his sister's governess, he
ran swiftly down the staircase to meet
her at the side door as she entered.
Miss Haggerty looked pale and wor
ried, and met her lover’s questioning
look, be almost ronghly seized her by
the wrists, with eyes that showed
astonishment and fear in their dark
depths.
“My brother, signor,” she said
quickly, without waiting to be cate
chized, and as if dropping unconsciously
into her native tongne, “he has led a
wild life and given me a world of trou
ble. I hoped that I had eecaped him
when I came here.”
“Bnt you were conversing in Italian,
Miss Haggerty," he said, with almost a
fierce suspicion is his tones. “ I had no
idea that yon were not a countrywoman
of my own..
“ Yon understood what we were say
ing, then ? ” she asked, with a quick,
searching glance into his face.
“ No.”
At this nnexpected answer a sudden
look of ineffuble relief swept over her
features. •
"Onr mother was Italian, Mr. Mar
bnrg,” she said, “ and Antonio prefers
her language to onr colder English.
Though, save in conversation with him,
I rarely use, it myself.” Then, with a
sorrowful look of wounded pride that
went straight to his heart, she added :
“ I am pained to read in your face, Mr.
Marbnrg, that yon think some evil of
me.”
"I do not—Heaven forbid!” exclaim
ed Fred, fervently, ashamed of his brief
snepicion. “I was startled ont of my
senses by seeingyon ont when I thought
yon were in your room, asleep—that is
all. And, Kate,’’ he went on, the pas
sion in his heart surging np in hot
words to his lips at sight of her beanti
fnl, pained face so near him. Bnt
something—bis better angel, perhaps
checked the wild words ere they were
spoken. “I beg yon to forgive my
rudeness, ’ he ended, in adifferent tone,
letting go her WTisc and tnrning hastily
away. “Good night 1"
Perhaps Miss Haggerty wondered at
his sadden change of manner, bnt she
only looked alter him with a quiet
smile.
Mrs. Lord had returned, and was
once more “at home" to a select com
pany which filled her lofty rooms,
resplendent with jewels, dreamy with
German waltzes, and heavy with the
fragranc >of a thousand flowers. Yet
among all that brilliant crowd none was
so distinguished for rare attractiveness
as the poor governess, Miss Haggerty.
Fred Marbnrg meant to speak this even
ing, for the ghoßt of that. October mid
night and the low-spoken addio wafted
to his jealons ear, which bannted him
often enongb, had not had power to
break her spell.
He watched her moving about, with
her striking beauty and unconscious
ease, as much at home in that polished
company as the hostess herself, and felt
a sort oi pride of ownership already in
his heart. He believed that she loved
him, for there bad been moments when
those white cheeks had crimsoned, and
those dark, impassionate eyes had
drooped, beneath his gaze. And he was
now only awaiting bis opportunity to
ask her for the sweet assurance in words.
, At last he believed that it bad come.
for he missed her from the parlors, and
hoping to find her in the oonservatory,
he rose and bent his steps in that direc
tion, with a snrpressed eagerness in hiß
eyes which told her how deeply his
heart was involved in the power of this
woman.
He had not more than half made his
way thither when a servant touched his
elbow and delivered a. whispered bnt
imperative reqnest from his sister to
meet her instantly in the library. There
was something in the messenger's man
ner which oonvinced him that the busi
ness, whatever it was, conld not wait;
so, with a muttered imprecation under
bis mnstache, he turned on his heel
and retraced his steps to the library. It
seemed that fate was bonnd to thwart
him in every attempt he made to de
clare his passion.
When he stepped within the library,
wbat a scene met his gaze) His proud
sister lying in an attitude of despair
1 upon the sofa, weeping as if her very
heart wonld break, and, nnder the gas
light, in her tasteful evening toilet, with
white face and blazing eyes, closely
guarded by two officers of the law—
Miss Haggerty.
. He stood like one snddenly tnrned
into stone. “O, Fred!" cried his sister,
hysterically, “there is some awful, aw
ful mistake! I sent for yon to explain
to these officers who she is, and how—
O, Fred! why don’t yon say something?”
she implored, as her brother stood
speechless, looking from one to another
of the strange group.
“There is no mistake sir,” said one of
the officers, stepping forward, respect
fully. “Yon and your sister have been
imposed upon by a notorious adventur
ess. This woman is Madame Arditi,
an Italian, and the wife of a rained
Italian count, and together they have
been engaged in several noted robber
ies. She has made nse of her beanty
and talents to gain a foothold in wealthy
families whom they intended to victim
ize. In one case, at least, she went so’
far as to actually many her victim, in
order to rob him to better advantage.
It is lucky for you, sir,” significantly,
“that we have traced her np so soon.’
“Which we did,” added the other
officer, “by shadowing her hnsband,
and following him, last night, to this
very honse. Now we have got them
both.”
“Miss Haggerty—Kate—can this be
true ?” Fred fairly gasped, with a face
as death like as her own. She did not
speak, bnt the white face and the glit
tering eyes told their own story. Heart
sick and faint, he turned away.
“I did not mean to rob yon,” thrilled
that low, unspeakably sweet voice in
his ear, unheard by any other. “I
conld have done that long ago. I
meant to have married yen, if I conld
have escaped himand Fred shuddered,
as his thonghts went back to that dark
browed Italian, “for I love you. and I
know that yonr heart is mine this
moment."
Fred conld not bear another word or
glance. He went from her presence,
taking with him the memory of a white,
despairing face which, gnilty thongh it
was, wonld hannt him sorrowfully for
many a day. He did not soon cast her
from his heart, for tier's had been no
ordinary power. The process was slow
and painful. Bnt when a certain pic
turesque old orchard among the New
Hampshire hills was again white with
apple-blossoms, Flora Blake’s trusting
heart had its reward, for there Fred
Marbnrg gave his own forever into her
keeping, after telling her, without
reserve, the whole sad, humiliating
story of Miss Haggerty.
Mrnrk Dumb for Lying.
There is great excitement among the
congregation of the Rev. John Jasper’s
chnroh, in Richmond. Ya., growing ont
of the mysterious affliction of a colored
yenth who was a member. The pastor
is the colored preacher who has become
famous for his sermon entitled “ The
Sun Do Move." he youth referred to
ran away from home and told many lies
to his mothor, hoping at the same time
“that God wonld paralyze his tongne if
what he stated was not true.” Soon
afterward he began to talk with diffi
culty. He continued fa this oondition
till the night of the church meeting,
when, in as lend a voice as he was able,
ha made the same declaration, calling
upon God to paralyse hia tongne. Im
mediately afterward he was nnable to
speak, and there waa great consterna
tion. The congregation believes that
the boy has been struck dumb for
lying. It is said he has made repeated
efforts to speak without success,
and he now answers all questions by
writing.
India foulards with designs that cover
the ground entirely mate tasteful sum
mer dresses. They are made np with
pleated skirts and panier drabery, with
plain satin for facings and pipings,
frills of creamy lace and flota of narrow
ribbons.
W. C. SMITH. Publisher.
Ton’ll Never Guess,
I know two eyee, two soft brown eyes,
Two eyes as sweet and dear
As ever danced with gay surprise.
Or melted with a tear;
Iu whose fair rays a heart may bask—
Their shadowed rays serene—
But, little maid, you must not ask
Whose gentle eyes I mean.
I know a voice of fairy tone,
Like brooklet in the June,
That sings to please itself alone,
A little old-world tune :
Whose music haunts the listener’s ear.
And will not leave it free ;
But I shall never tell you, dear,
Whose accents they may be.
I know a golden-headed maid
For whom I built a shrine,
A leafy nook of murmurous shade,
Deep in this heart of mine ;
And in that calm and cool recess
To make her home she came
Bat, oh! yon’d neter, never guess
That little maiden's name.
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Sunday after Ascension was appointed
as a day oi intercession for missions by
the bishops of New York, Connecticut,
Pennsylvania, Long Island, New Jersey,
and many other dioceses.
There are abont fifty vegetable farms
in the vicinity of Savannah worth $250,-
000 to $400,000. It is estimated that
they shipped produce last year worth at
a low estimae $400,000.
Chicago is the greatest lumber market
.in the world. The Bingle item of sawed
lnmber received there in 1831 wonld
lay an inch flooring fourteen feet wide
round the earth at the equator.
The burning mountain of coal in the
Novajo reservation in Arizona, whioh
has been blazing several hundred years,
was visited last month by two, the first
white men ever known to have seen it.
Peppermint oil, which is manufac
tured in St. Joseph county, Michigan,
in great quantities, is now selling for $2
per pound, and there are over 10,000
pounds of it stored in that county for
higher prices.
Mountain dresses of flannel in order
to be of light weight are male all in
one piece without drapery. The waist
is fitted like a Jersey and the box
pleated skirt is sewed to the edge of
the waist witn an erect heading of
pleats around the hips.
Frankford-on-the Main, containing a
popnlation of abont 102,000, is said to
bo the richest city of its size in the
whole world. If its wealth were eqnally
divided among its inhabitants every
man woman and child wonld have, it is
said, 20,000 marks, or some $4,000
apiece.
When a notice bearing the signature
of Collector Robertson is posted in the
New York Custom Honse the place
where the name is written is studded
with tacks. This has been fonnd neces
sary because of the fact that hitherto
the signature on notices displayed pub
licly hu3 always been cut ont by un
known persons, it is believed for im
proper uses.
HUMOROUS,
“There is no tyranny in America,”
an Englishman writes home to his
friends. Evidently hasn’t got a hired
girl yet.
Law is like a sieve; yon may see
through it, bnt yon must be con
siderably reduced before you can get
through it.
“Beef is steadily going np,” says
an exchange. The only way to stop
that is not to allow so much of it
to go down.
A Cincinnati paper puts over the
account of a young man who forged his
father's name this head line : “On the
road to perdition.” The article shows
that he took the train for Chicago.
Miss Alice Livingstone, of New York,
has sned Henry Fleming, of the same
city, for breach of promise, laying her
damages at $175,000. Yonng men come
high this year, bnt the girls are bound
to have one.
The United States Fish Commis
sioner has recently placed in the riven
of Arkansas and Texas 1,500,000 shad.
This statement may be believed. It’s
not the nnmber of fish they pnt into a
river, bnt the number they take ont that
men lie abont. m .
“ How is the soil in Kansas ? ” asked
one of a group, as the traveler paused.
“Richest in the world, sir,” was the
reply. “I know a New York State man
who went Jtn Kansan seven years ago
with orivsls in cash, snd be is now
worth $20,000." “Whew I What did
he raise principally?” “I believe it
was a check, sir—they couldn’t exactly
prove it on him. Think of a soil ‘that
will raise a bank eheck for $l9O to
lls,ooo, and in a backward season ab
that r