CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. I. NO. 32.
Sonic of the Sraeon.
Come meditative mnso—fantastic fay!
Come, rack yonr sconce and rake yonr
tones together,
Get op and stir yourself without delay,
Let’s slug the weather !
Hail, snow flakes, snow storm, snow drift,
heap on heap.
These ore delightful where the mud was
odious;
Tender thy strain in midst of winter sleep.
Thou snower melodious!
Now blithe lads pelt each other with the
snow,
Now roses deck the cheek and noses tingle
And warm hearts hide beneath the buftalo,
And sleigh-bells jingle.
The jolly wind a serenading goes;
To show each lovely damsel what he kin
do;
lie plays on his catarrh and blows his snows
Beneath her window.
The rural locomotive plies the plow:
The festive farmer flourishes the shovel;
The snow—(eight feet)-drowns and disguises
now
Palace and novel.
Three feet of ice upon the rivers freeze.
And Billy bellows like a bull of Bashan
When he falls down and bumps his head and
fees
A constellation.
The pipes freeze up. No Croton, cold or
hot:
And once more, as you do in summer.
You seek the sultan of the soldering-pot,
The op nlont rlumber.
This is the golden leisure-hour for sport;
The hour to play upon a flute, or go forth
And call at Deacon Stebbins’, to court
Your girl, Ac.
> — W. A. Croffut.
ESTRANGED.
A MATRIMONIAL EPISODE.
As the horn sounded the call to
breakfast Caleb Sterling came down
the path which led from the barn to
the kitchen door, a foaming pail of
milk in each hand. The kitchen
looked pleasant and cozy. A cheerful
fire burned in the brightly-polished
stove, by the side of which, in a soap
box, a Maltese cat was contentedly
purring to lour small kittens. Gera
niums bloomed on the window-sills,
and the row of tins hanging above the
long dresser shone as brightly as soap
and sand could make them.
The breakfast was hot and savory,
and the small, delicate-looking woman
sitting behind the big coffee pot was
very fair to the sight, with her laree,
dark blue eyes, curly hair, low, broad
forehead and regular features. She
was neatly dressed in dark blue flannel,
made simply, and relieved at the neck
and wrists by linen collar and cuffs,
and protected in front by a large
w hite apron.
Pleasant as was this picture of home
comfort, the stern, angry look which
Caleb Sterling's face had worn for
several days past did not relax. He
set the pails on a bench, w ashed his
hands in a tin basin at the sick, and
without a word took liis seat' at the
table.
Neither did the wife sjieak. She
poured out her husband’s coffee and
handed it to him without remark, and
in utter silence accepted the broiled
steak and fried potatoes he offered her.
The hired man had taken his break
fast an hour previous]}', in order that
he might go to the village on an er
rand, and the husband and w ife were
free to exchange the sweeteßt confi
dences unheard. But apparently they
had none to exchange. It was not
until the meal was' ended that the
strange, oppressive silence was broken,
save by tne clatter of knives and
forks.
Then, as he pushed back his chair
with a great deal of unnecessary noise,
and rose from. the table, Caleb said,
without looking at his wife:
"I'm going over to Squire Bligh’s to
seebim atiout that corn he w ants me
to let him have. I’ll lie back before
noon, and tlien I'll harness up and
we’ll go to freestone to see Lawyer
Kane. I sent him a note yesterday,
making an engagement for yds after
noon; so we won’t miss seeing him,”
And without waiting for a reply
be put on his hat and overcoat and
went out.
Kebecca Sterling did not rise as heT
husband left the room. She sat mo
tionless, staring down at the breakfast
tray before her with eyes that slowly
filled with tears, and a hard and bitter
expreMjon on her youthful face.
It was .about to end, then, this
wrangling between Caleb and herßelf.
They were to seeme peace at the price
of a separation. In a few hours they
would be discussing the matter with a
lawyer, laying hare to him the domes
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., FEBRUARY 10, 1883.
tic infelicities which had brought
them to such a pass and deciding on :
the division of the property.
Caleb was generous—she w'ould not
deny that—and he was sure to give
her even more than was her just due;
so no fear of future pecuniary distress
troubled her.
But she knew the separation would
cause a great deal of gossip. People
were always so ready to discuss the pri
vate affairs of their friends and neigh
bors.
And then there were mother and
Jane to be told. Rebecca felt sure
they would be justly indignant, and ,
would espouse her cause warmly when !
they learned all she had suffered at
Caleb’s hands.
And yet, now that she thought it
all over, what had been Caleb’s exact
offense ?
Their estrangement had begun with’ ,
the employment of Jonas Stiiltz as '
man-of-all-work. Rebecca had taken
a violent dislike to him, and had j
thought him too coarse and common to
be admitted into the family circle. It
would have been quite as easy to hire
some one not so distasteful to her, she
thought. She had no patience with
the vulgarity of Jonas, and resented
being brought into association with
him.
But Caleb had a great legard for
Jonas’ working qualities, and treated
Rebecca’s request for his discharge as
an absurd whim not worth even a mo
ment’s consideration.
This had angered Rebecca, and she
had expressed herself very sharply and
freely on what she termed her hus- j
band’s “ outrageous tyranny.”
Mutual recriminations and re
proaches had followed; old scores,
trifling enough, and almost forgotten
in the happiness and peace which had
followed them, were recalled, expa
tiated upon and made much of. Time
and reflection did not mend matters.
The wrongs each cherished seemed to ;
inerease rather than diminish as they
were brooded over; and finally a sep
: aration was decided upon.
The moment the decision was made
the husband and wife would have
rusherl to tiie lawyer’s office had it
been possible.
But there was a storm raging with
out as well as within the old farm
house, and the interview with Mr.'
Kane had been necessarily postponed
until the following day.
“ How glad I shall be to get back to
mother and Jane,” mused Rebecca, j
continuing to sit before the breakfast
table, heedless of the crying of the cat !
for her morning’s meal or the fact that
the cream was risingon the unstrained 1
milk in the pails. “My dear, beauti
ful old home ! How foolish I was to ;
leave it and to imagine I would be
happy witli such a man as CalJb
Sterling. But he was pleasant enough j
before we were married. He was
careful to give me no chance to find
out his real character until lie had me
hound to him. If I’d known what
he really was, I’d sooner have gone to
my grave than married him !”
Then her memory reverted to Seth
Talbott, who had been her lover before
Caleb appeared on the scene. Hand
some Seth! How devotedly he had
loved her! How considerate and
gentle were his manners to women !
Had she only been wise enough to ac
cept him she would never have known
such misery and regret as she was suf
fering now. And mother and Jane ;
had thought h*r so fortunate in her i
marriage ! They had admired Caleb, i
little dreaming what a cold, cruel heart j
he really possessed. They had no
doubt of her future happiness when
they intrusted her to his keeping.
How blind they had been ! In days i
gone by there had been a rumor i
that pretty Meg Darrow had rejected j
Caleb.
“ She showed her good sense,” mnt-,
tered Rebecca now. as memory recalled
the rumor.
The opening of the door roused her :
from her painful reverie. She looked
up to see Jonas, the original bone of
contention. He stamped the snow .
from his feet, pulled off his big woolen !
mittens and approached the fire, while
Rebecca started up, covertly dashed
the tears from her eyes, and'began to
clear off the table with an energy that
made up for lost time.
" Where’s the boss?” asked Jonas,
regarding ner flushed face and wet
lashes with considerable curiosity.
He had not been unaware of the
cloud which had risen on the domestic
horizon, hut did not imagine that he
was at all to blame for it.
“ Gone to Squire Bligh’s,” answered
Rebecca, shortly; and Jonas gave a
low whistle, mentally comparing her
to a “snapdragon.”
"Left any word for me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Old Boswell give me a teHygram ;
for you,” said Jonas, after a pause. “I ]
guessed I mought just as well save'
him the trouble o’ sending Jake out
with it”—producing a yellow envelope
from his pocket,
“ Why didn't you give it to me the
instant you came in ?” cried Rebecca,
snatching it from him and tearing it j
open.
She had grown pale with apprehen
sion of evil, and her pallor increased [
as she read:
‘ ‘ Come at once. Mother is very iH. ”
It was signed by her sister Jane.
“ Jonas,” said Rebecca, trying to
speak calmly, “my mother is sick, and;
1 must go to her without delay. Von j
will have to take me into Freestone in
time to catch the 2 o'clock trJfn. Hitch ;
up Brown Sally at once.”
Jonas grumbled a little at the order,
not liking the idea of going into town
again so scon : but he obeyed it. and
an hour later Rebecca was on the train,
speeding away to her old home, some
fifty miles distant from the one to
which young Caleb Sterling had carried :
her live years before.
"Tell my husband that I will return
as soon as possible.” she said to Jonas,
as he left her at the station.
And she did not think until she was
nearly at the end of her journey of her
engagement to go with Caleb to the
lawyer's.
“But nothing will be lost by wait
ing a week or t wo,” she decided.
Mie did not imagine that anything j
would be gained. The future is very
wisely hidden from us.
“How is mother?” was the first
question she asked of Jane, who met
her on the arrival of the train at Edge
port.
“ Decidedly better.” answered her
sister. “ She has not been dangerously
ill at any time, but she wanted to have j
you here. She was afraid she might
take a sudden turn and die without
seeing you again.”
But no such catastrophe as Mrs.
Moore’s death occurred. She improved
steadily under Rebecca’s nursing, and
in the course of a few days was able i
to sit up in an easy-ehair.
And then Rebecca had time to think
of something else than medicines,
ehieken-broth and gruel.
It seemed to her as if her old home i
was greatly changed—as if the rooms
had grown smaller, the furniture less |
than of yore. There was a stiffness
and chilliness about the house which
had been unfelt in her girlhood, and
was due, perhaps, to Janet's rigid
management.
Rebecca could not but compare
the home to which she had so!
longed to return with the one she had
left, much to the disadvantage of the
former.
And Jane had changed, too. She I
had grown sallow, thin and was particu- j
lar to a fault; had merged from the;
kindly elder sister into the prim spin- 1
ster of “ uncertain age,” to whom a :
tablecloth awry, or a spot of grease on !
the floor, seemed grievous sins against
order anil cleanliness.
Even tiie village was changed. Five
years had made sad havoc in Rebecca's
girlish friendships. Old friends had
died, married and moved away to new j
homes, leaving few in whom she took j
any interest.
“ It’s well you didn’t marry Seth [
Talbott,” said Jane one day as she sat i
talking -with her sister. “ Folks say i
he treats his wife aliominably—eren [
beats her sometimes—and never gives \
her a cent. He’s taken to drink, too.
Yon made a fortunate selection in Caleb j
Sterling.”
“ Did 1?” said Rebecca, quietly.'
“ And yet I don’t believe tiie married
life of any one is ail sunshine and love.
Jane, as you would find out if you ever
tried it.”
“ I wish some one as good as Caleb
would give me the chance,” said Jane,
frankly. “ The life of a single woman
isn’t all sunshine and love, either. And
there’s the loneliness. If mothershould
die there wouldn't be an excuse for
my existence.”
“ You would find something to do.
Jane.”
" What ? Every avenue open to
women is already overcrowded, and I
might take a place that was needed hr
some one on the verge of starvation or
suicide. And then, unskiUed labor
isn’t worth anything. I never learned
a trade, and the onlything I ran do is
to take care of mother.”
As the days went by. and Mrs.
Moore was pronounced on the fair
road to recovery. Rebecca began to
grow homesick. She would not admit
it to herself at first; but it was quite
true, nevertheless, and was patent to i
her mother and Jane, wbo knew <
nothing of the proposed separation, i
Her mind dwelt continually on Caleb |
and the farm. She wondered how h'
had managed about, the milk, tbt
churning and his meals, if he had re
mendered to feed the cat and put con
out for the pigeons and wind the
kitchen d«tt She imagined til*
kitchen floor muddy and wet. and felt
sure the dust was lying thick on every
thing from garret to cellar. She won
dered, toe. if Caleb had missed ha
absence. But she had been gone only
a week. A week! It seemed six
months.
That night she cried herself to sleep
and her last waking thought was m
Caleb and the nnkindeess with whicl
she had treated him. Strange to say
the wrongs which she herself had snf
freed were Forgotten.
“I must go home, mother,” sht
! said, the next morning. “ You don"i
need me any longer, and I ought net te
I stay.”
“It is only natural yon should want
to gt\“ said the oM lady. “I don't
blame you. Caleb is more to you now
than mother and sister put together
I'm glad you are so happy in you!
marriage, dear. But I felt sure froir
the first that yea would be. Tty ti
keep the love you have won, daughter
Life isn't worth much if there is nr
love to help ns bear its burdens,”
A burning ;l-«sh suffused Rebecca's
face.
“How could I ever have told her?'
she thought. “ How she would feel il
she knew that only her illness savec
Caleb and me from a separation.”
It was dusk when Rebecca readier.
Freestone, and as she had not writtet
to Caleb that she was coming there
was no one there to meet her.
But she persuad'd Mr. Boswell’*
sen to drive her out to the farm for a
“ coosideral
He took the road which led past the
office of Lawyer Kane, and Relieves
could not repress a shudder as she saw
it. Her heart turned sick within her
as for the first time the thought came
to her that perhaps Caleb would not
forgive her—would rigidly insist upon
the separation agreed upon ten day*
before.
Mie dismissed the buggy at the gate j
and went on foot up the side road
which led to the kitchen door.
The house was quite dark. She
wondered if by any cruel chance Caleb
was away. But no; the knob of the
door turned in her hand and she en
tered.
Caleb had not lighted a I»mp. but
the lids of the stow were off. and the
bright firelight showed him sitting in
a large chair, his head sunk on hi*
breast ami one hand over his eyes.
He was so deeply buried in thought,
and Rebecca canic in so sofUv, that
he did not hear her. *
She stood for a fuff moment looking
:at him. marking the wan look on his
face, the weary, dejgcted attitude.
A terrible pang struck her heart.
This wa* her doing. She it was who
bail Iguught those sal lines to the
hambome. manly countenance of the ;
man she had never loved so well as
now. No donl* it was of her nnkind
ness he was thinking as he sighed
heavily
With a hearse sc* she threw herself
en her knees heside him, and winding
her arms about his neck, cried, wildly:
“Caleb! Ca!eb! can you ever for
[ give me?”
He did net answer for a moment,
but held her dose, pressing his face
lovingly to hers. Then he raised her
gently to her feet and drew her to a
seat on his knee, as he said, in a low.
broken voice;
“It is I who should ask for pardon.
Beckie. All this long week I've been
aching to tell you how sorry I feel for
all I said. I sent Jonas away the day
after you left me. and I've been ail
alone "with my misery and repent
ance. Did rou want to come back?
TeR me?”
But there eras something in Re
becca's threat which choked her, and
she could only answer with a sob as
she hid her'face on her husband's
breast.
• • • •
“ Hello, Sterling.” said Mr. Kane,
meeting Caleb in the village street a
few days later, “why didn't yon fulfill
that engagement that you made with
me two weeks ago.”
“Oh. I settled the business very un
expectedly. and didn't need any legal
aid.” answered Caleb.
And the lawyer, shrewd as he wav
never su*peeted what the trouble had
been at Clover Top farm.
What with the inventive attractions
and the growth of the United States,
the annual ineome of the furniture
maanfartnrers of the country is not
Iws than $120,000,000.
W. C. SMITH. Pullisber.
Ambergris.
Ambergris Is a fatty, disagreeable
smelling substance, and is only found
in the intestines of a dead sperm
whale—one that has suffered with
some peculiar disease before being
killed by the harpoons and lances of
the intrepid whalemen. Fifty years
ago seekers for the leviathan did not
realize that in the body of the whale
lying alongside were 100 or 200 pounds
of an article worth from $lO to S2O an
ounce, according to its purity, but
after the valuable discovery was made
that some whales contained this fatty
dark green substance, no whale’s car
cass was cut adrift from the ship’s side
until a thorough examination had
i been made for this hidden treasure.
Ambergris is the basis for all of the
best of perfumery. It has the prop
erty of retaining the scent of cologne
and other choice extracts, which would
speedily evaporate unless ambergris
was a verv small part. When cologne
or any c h r cheap perfume does not
contain h * ill-smelling substance, you
may know that ambergris is not one
of its ingredients, and so reject it as
worthless, for it will evaporate as soon
as applied, and leave an unpleasant
smell. Although ambergris i 3 not
pleasant to inhale in its crude state,
yet if it is heated it will please the ol
factory nerves as much as manufac
tured perfumery, while counterfeit
ambergris smells badly, hot or cold.
The largest quantity of ambergris
ever taken from a diseased sperm
whale ( except in fhecasewe are about
to relate ) weighed 182 pounds, and
some lumps have been found that did
not weigh more than one pound, the
last the lowest on record. Some
I twenty years ago or more there arrived
in Boston an old whaling captain from
the cape with a cask of ambergris that
contained over 500 pounds. He had
taken the whole of it from a diseased
whale that he had killed in the At
lantic ocean. This was the largest
quantity that was ever known before
or since, ami while the captain knew
that ambergris was valuable he
did not realize its worth, and
thought that he could work it
off in small lots to the apothecaries,
but while some agreed to take au
ounce, others refused to buy at any
price, and so the skipper wandered
around the city utterly discouraged.
One evening, adds the New Bedford
.Vcrct/ry, a member of the large firm
of Months A Pestle, wholesale drug
gists (the names are fictitious), heard
of the captain and his cask of amber
gris. He did not lose a moment in
hunting up the captain, but took a
carriage anil drove all over the north
end, from one boarding house to an
other, and ran down his man at 1
; o'clock in the morning. The skipper
was routed out of bed. and then Mr.
Months made an offer for the precious
amliergris. He ventured on $5,000,
but the captain thought he would not
; have been called upon at 1 o'clock in
i the morning unless ambergris was on
the rise, and he declined the offer.
Then came offers of $6,000, $7,000,
SB,OOO, SO,OOO, and last a bid of SIO,OOO
j closed the bargain., and papers were
drawn up and signed, and that fore
noon the precious cask and its con
tents were rolled into Months * Pes
tle’s cellar, and the skipper received a
check for SIO,OOO and a few dollars
j ov< r for his expenses at the boarding
house. The transaction was kept se
cret, and the next steamer that left
Boston contained Mr. Months, who
hurried to London, Paris and Vienna,
sold ambergris at each place, and made
i the handsome sum of $30,000 net ont
of that one cask of ill-smelling sub
stance. From that day to this Messrs.
Months A Pestle have controlled the
trade of the country, and now amber
gris of the best quality is worth from
$25 to S3O per ounce, with but little
on the market
Nutmegs.
Nutmegs grow upon a tree from
twenty-five to thirty feet high, which
bears a fruit resembling in form and
sire the Seckle pear. When ripe the
outer shell of this fruit breaks, re
vealing an inner case of bright red.
known to commerce as mace. This in
its turn is removed, and the nutmeg
is found inclosed in a third shell
harder than either of the others.
~t —
The 415 street railways in the Uni
ted Mates and Canada run 18,000 cars
and more than 100,000 horses are in
daily use. Calculating that the aver
age life of a horse in street-railway
service is four years, it makes the con
sumption of horses 25,000 per year.
To feed this vast number of horses re
quires annually 150,000 tons of hay
i and J 1.000.000 bushels of grain.