CHARLOTTE MESSENGER
VOL. I. NO. 35.
The Fhrmer’s Wife.
11m fhnner came in Item the field one day,
Ilia languid ate? and his weary way,
His bended brow and sinewy hand,
U showing his work for the good of the
land;
For he bowb,
And he how,
And be mows,
All lor the good of the land,
fly tho kitchen tire stood his patient wife,
r jight of his home and joy of his life.
With face all aglow and busy hand,
!’re*m ring foo meal for her husband’s band;
For she must boil.
And she must broil,
And she must toil,
AH for the sake of the home.
•4oii shines bright when the farmer goes out,
ilirdasing sweet songs, lambfe frisk about,
Tb© brook babbles softly in the glen,
Wf)ile be works bravely for the good of men;
For he sows,
And he hoes,
And he mows.
All for the good of the land.
How briskly the wife steps al»out within—
The dishea to wash, and the milk to skim,
The Urea go out, flies buzz about—
ffor dear onea at home her heart is kept
stout;
Thor© are pies to make,
There is bread to bake,
And steps to take,
All for the sake of the home.
When the day is o’er and the evening has
come,
'Hie creatures are fed and the milking is '
done, i
lie lakes his rest- ’neath the old shade tree,
I*Vofn the labor of the land his thoughts are I
free;
Though he sow*.
And he hoes, l
And be mows,
He rests from the work of the land. 1
Hut the faithful wife, from sun to sun,
fakes the burden up that’s never done;
There is no rest, there is no pay,
hfll the household goods die must work
mmy;
For to mend the frock.
And to knit the sock,
Aud the cradle to rook.
All for Die good of the home.
\Wum autumn is here, with chilling blast.
The farmer gathers his crops at last,
His barns are full, his field* are bare, 1
hv»r ttae good of the*land he ne’er hath care;
While i t blows,
And it snows.
Till the winter goes,
He rests from the work of the land.
Gnt iho willing wife, till life’s closing day,
i* the children's, the hnaband’s stay,
From day to day she hrv* done her best,
' bail death alone cun give ber rest;
For after the test
domes the rest.
With the blest,
In the farmer's heavenly home,
4 REVERSED DECISION.
“ Os course he’s very nice and agree
d)le,” said Alice Safford. “ And
handsome, too, if one fancies that
■ lark, escaped-brigand style. But X
lout think 1 like him."
“ Alice, how can you ?” indignantly
remonstrated Emmeline, the. eldest sis
ter.
•• And when tilings are all but set
tled between you I" groaned Althea,
che second Miss Safford.
Alice was undeniably the beauty of
tlie family. Emmeline was hard
’ lettered and practical, and occupied
the post of vice-principal in a ncigh
iioriug primary school. Althea wa3
short and stout, with filmy, gray
eyes, and brows so light tiiat they
were scarcely perceptible on the level
plain of her face.
She was housekeeper and performed
marvels in the pie and pudding line,
beside making the family income go
twioe as far as it would otherwise have
done.
But Alice —fresh-cheeked, rosv
hpped little Alice, with the straight,
Minall features, and the liquid, sap
pliiro-bluoeyes- -she had always been
i he family baby.
.She practiced a little, sometimes, on
the cabinet-piano, which was hired at
lour dollars a month ; she made up
trills and laces for the other girls,
embroidered pretty triftss on plush,
aud took care of the canary and the
geraniums. Nolwdy dreamed of setting
Alice to perform any of the harder,
more mcuiol liutiesof the household.
And great was the family satisfac
tion when Prank Kingsdalo fell in love
with Alice.
•• Now s ic will have the bomo she
Jwervos," stdd Bmmclina
And a abend wlio will worship
her!" added Althea, who, alas I had
never had an oiler in her life.
i’crhaira if Mi Kimrsdalo had not
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., MARCH 3, 1883.
d’splayed bis infatuation so plainly,
Alice Safford would have accepted
him
As it was, she did not. She believed
in the old proverb about the over
ripeness of the apple which fell too
readily from the bough.
She was slightly fastidious and very
capricious. And she made up her
mind, after much deliberation, (that.
Mr. Kingsdale was not “ her ideal 1”
“ It’s of no use,” said Mrs. Safford;
“ she won’t have him.”
‘‘ls the girl crazy?” said Althea,
dolefully.
“ She must have been.” said Emme
line, who, as a full-fledged vice-princi
pal, believed in the efficacy of strict
discipline.
“1 don’t love him,” said Alice.
“Am 1 to fall in love with every gen
tleman who chooses to take a fancy to
me?”
“ Love don’t signify so much —not if
you like and respect him,” sighed poor
Mrs. Safford, who had eloped at sixteen
and had led a sorry life of it for thirty
odd years in consequence thereof.
“ Oh, mamma,” said Alice, “ I never
could marry a man if I didn't love
him.”
“ You’re a silly goose!” declared
Althea.
“I’m not an old maid, anyhow!” re
torted saucy Alice
“It would serve you right if Prank
Kingsdale went and married Hippolyta
Danesbury,” asserted Emmeline.
“He will not do that,” said Alice.
“You will see that he will never marry
anybody.”
“Then you have blighted his life,”
said Althea, in accents of reproval.
“ That isn’t my fault,” said Alice.
Mr. Kingsdale accepted his dismis
sal. Contrary to Alice’s expectations,
he came to the little hearthstone in '
the “Montefiore Flats” no more. The
bouquets, new books and boxes of
French chocolate ceased to arrive by
special messenger.
There Were no more private boxes
at the opera; no pleasant^rives in the
park. It was a little dut. v
But Alice Safford felt that she had
vindicated herself, and when he had
overcome his first chagrin sue was
certain that he would come again—of
course he would come again.
Old Mrs. Wyndham Jones calledone
day—a powdered, overdressed old hag,
with false hair, false teeth, false every
thing, who believed herself still to be
as beautiful as Venus. She went
everywhere and know everybody and
was as good as a newspaper.
“ Well, I declare 1” cackled this ven
erable interpreter of society. “ Miss
Alice has gone off in her looks, hasn’t
she?” And that accounts for
it. I told Mrs. Fite Arbine
that Frank Kingsdale never
would have thrown her over unless
there was some good cause. Did you
know that he was becoming quite de
voted to General Salsify’s nioce. Miss
Maugenet? Everybody’s taking
about it.”
Emmeline looked grim. Alice
blushed scarlet. Althea observed,
tartly, that “they didn’t take much in
terest in drawing-room gossip.”
“No; of course no., said Mrs.
Wyndham Jones. “Being so entirely
out of society, all these things are new
to you. But it’s a pity about young
Kingsdale, isn’t it? He would have
been such a catch for Miss Alice,
there 1”
Alice's cheeks flamed deeper than
before.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jones 1” said she,
purposely omitting the Wyndham, on
which the old harridan especially
prided herself; “1 am not in a hurry
to lie married.”
“That’s what all the girls say,”
chuckled Mrs. Wyndham Jones. “But,
good gracious, they can’t deceive me I
And Frank Kingsdale is one in a
thousand! They say Miss Mango
net's trosseau is to come direct from
Paris. Oh, well, it’s dress that makes
her! She isn’t pretty, only stylish.
And she must bo full five years older
than Frank.”
Alice said nothing after Mre. Wynd
ham .Jones had taken her departure.
She busied herself with practicing a
new “ Nocturne,” and gave the double
chords with great spirit.
The next day, at breakfast. Mrs.
Safford looked very worn and hag
gard.
“Girls," said she, “I’ve ill news for
you. I’m sorry I ever invested In
those Tennegridge mining Ixmds.
Ten per cent in gold seemed very at
i tractive, but I ought to have followed
your Uncle Cannahy’s advice and let
i them alone. Tie whole thing has
exploded. Wo’ve lost the 16,000, nnd
, what’s wor«\ we’re liable to the
etock holders!”
«Oh, mather f* cried Alice: “ what
, are wo to do?"
«We must all go to work,” said the
widow, piteously. “ I will take a few
boarders—Althea can help me; and
you, Alice, do you think, darling, you
would mind a genteel place in a mil
linery or dressmaking establishment—
something that was light and lucra
tive.”
“ Mamma,” said Alice, clasping her
hands, “ I would go as a common ser
vant maid, if only you will not look so
white-and terrified?”
«Oh, if only you had married Mr.
Kingsdale, sighed Emmeline, wring
ing her Hands.
“It isn’t worth while to talk about
that, now,” said Alice, quickly.
Mrs. Stitchall. on Fourteenth street,
agreed to initiate Miss Safford into the
art of first-class dressmaking. The
girl was pretty and stylish. Her cus
tomers liked to be waited on by just
such dimpled young houris; and, be
side, on account of her inexperience,
Miss Safford came cheap.
But poor Alice was indescribably
shocked on the second, day of her
apprenticeship, when Miss Maugenet
swept into the show-room, with Mrs.
General Salsify and half a dozen
fashionable friends in attendance on
her.
“My niece has countermanded her
Parisia" order,” said Mrs. Salsify.
“ She tbinks that Pingat and Worth
charge a deal too much. What wo
want to know now is whether you,
Mrs. Stitchall, can undertake to have
her dresses ready for the thirtieth of
March "
Mrs. Stitchall beamed and said “she
thought thafcshecould. For a wedding,
outfit, of course, ail other things must
give way.”
Miss Maugenet smiled, loftily. She
did look old and ball-worn, Alice
thought, for all her eyes were so large
and her figure so imperially developed.
“ Yes,” said she, “ I am to he married
on the thirtieth of March, and I don’t
care who knows it. lam not one of
your green school-girls who want to
involve everything in mystery,”
And then" she fell to turning over
the stuffs and criticising the fashion
plates, as a fashionable lady should.
A strange pang rent poor Alice Suf
ford’s heart as she stood there, ar
ranging imported costumes on their
frames. Her eye 3 brimmed with
tears. How could Prank ever have
fancied such a bold, showy, loud
voiced votary of fashion as this? —
Frank, who was so fastidious, so re
fined, so all that a man should be.
Suddenly she started. Her own
heart lay before her, easy to he de
ciphered as an open book. IVas she
in love with another woman’s affianced
lover? And the deep color glowed
on her cheek and her lip quivered.
Oh, why—why had she not compre
hended her own nature before? Now
it was too late I .
It was a raw, snowy twilight when
she started to return home, with a
sad wind wailing through the streets
and the gas jots flickering behind their
misty glasses.
Never before had Alice Safford been
outso late unprotected, and a drunken
man, just arrived at the gleeful stage
of inebriation. who staggered down the
street, made her heart beat with ter
ror. She uttered a little scream as
she stepped hastily aside, and walked
nearly into the arms of a tall pedes
trian, wearing a seal-trimmed over
coat.
“ Why. Alice I” he called out, cheeri
ly. “is this ri ally you? Alone, and
at this time of night 1”
“ Frank I” was all that she eonld
gasp.
“ If you don't want to walk with
me,” he said, “ I will not inflict my
presence upon you. But I will keep
a little behind, so as to make sure that
you reach home safely. Dusk is the
worst of all times for a young girl to
be out in the streets of New York
without an escort.”
She looked at him with eyes of mute
pleading.
“ Whiff; is it, Alicof* he asked.
»Why do you look so strangely at
me?”
“ Because you speak go <x>Wi!y. Be
cause you are so ciianged !” she cried
out, resolutely repressing her sobs.
“ Oil, why don’t you speak to me as
you did once?”
He drew her arm under his.
“ Alice,” be sail, “if I thought that
you cared for me—”
“ I do!” she exclaimed, peasionatcly.
“You know that I do. But, oh I
what am I saying toyou, the betiothcd
husband of another woman ?**
lie looked puzzled.
■ This is quite new to me,” said he:
: “Whether I marry or whether I die
■ingle, uy heart will ever be true to
, one woman, and one only— and she is
Aline Halford F
“ And Miss Maugenet F*
“Didn’t you know? She Is to
marry my cousin. Colonel Kingsdale,
who is the general’s aid-de-catnp. Miss
Maugenet, indeed! Why, she is al
most old enough to 1m my mother.”
“lam so glad—l am so glad I” was
all that Alice could say through her t
sobs.
Mrs. Safford was patching some |
muslin curtains, to make them do lor
the second-story hall bedroom, Em- I
meline was writing out an advertise- j
nient “ Boarders Wanted 1” for the '
next morning's paper, and Althea n> I
preparing a frugal bread pudding tor |
the economical dinner, when Alice j
and Frank Kingsdale. came in.
Mrs. Salford dropped her needle, J
Althea set down the pudding on the j
table, and Emmeline sat with her pen i
suspended in mid air.
“It’sall right,” said Frank, shaking i
hands all around, “We’re engaged.
We’re to lie married next week. Lest
Alice here should change her mind,
you know I”
“ I shall never change my mind,”
said Alice, almost indignantly. “ I
have always loved Frank—always!
Only I didn’t know it until I thought
I had lost him.”
They were married very quietly;
and old Mrs. Wyndham Jones pro
tested that she had known it all along.
So the Mrs. Wyndham Jones' of the
world never like even the appearance
of being taken unawares. —Hrien For
rext Glares.
The Philosopher's Advice.
A Merchant who found that fc*
must either increase his sales or clc*e
his doors and heat bis Creditors,
hunted up a Philosopher and asked
him what course he should Pursue.
“ Have you lived long in the Town ?”
asked the old man.
“Yes, for years."
“ And you know everybody T
“Every man, woman and child.”
“ Are the people all at peace with
each other ?”
“ They are, oh 1 wise man. There
has not been a word between families
for years.”
“ Then you must return home and
slyly provoke quarrels and hard feel
ings. Do as 1 say and your trade will
increase four-fold.”
The Merchant wonderingly obeyed
the injunction, and in a week there
were scarcely two families in the
Town on speaking terms. Mrs. A.
gave a card party and did luF .nvite
that stub-nosed Mrs. It., and Mrs. It.
gave a coffee and left Mrs A todrini
cold tea at homo along with her mon
key-faced daughter. Mrs. O. suddenly
ceased to loan to Mrs.. 1)., and Mrs. D
discovered that Mrs. E. was wearing
dresses sent hv a rich sister in Boston.
The result was as the Philosopher
had predicted. There was a sudden
demand upon tne merchant’s stock for
coffee-mills, flat-irons, Huters, axes,
shovels, groceries and other things
aud one woman ordered a set of cur/
and saucers, an eight-day clock and
$lO worth of knives and spoons with
the explanation:
“Beingthat one of my neighbors
has started the story that I had to hire
my husband to marry me, and the
ether has affirmed that wo areso stingy
that wo starve a deg to death every
six months, I will now show my inde
pendence by neither borrowing nor
lending. You may also send mesome
quilt-frames, a new teapot, two stove
kettles, a steamer, a dozen fruit jars
and a dishpan."
Then the Merchant had to hire two
extra clerks, build an addition and
speculate in mining stocks to get rid
of some of his money, and drummers
traveled hundreds of miles to see him,
and the Commercial Agencies rated
him good for a million.
Moral—The howl of • neighbor’s
dog is unnoticed until the owner re
fuses to lend his wheolbsrrow.—Dr.
troit Free Press.
Horse Sense.
A man who owned a fine hone luu
him clipped in midwinter, and the
shivering animal turned around and
asked him:
“ Why'do you deprive rneof my coat
In such cold weather f”
“ Oh, it’s to make a daisy of you,
was the reply.
As soon as the horse was attached
to the cutter he began kicking, and did
not stop until he had demolished the
outfit.
“ Wliat on earth possessed you to do
that?" allied tho owner.
“ Because a daisy of a horse would
look bad before a cheap cutter,” was
the reply. “ And I may as well smash
that; if you are going in for looks
you’d bettor got your hostler to hold
the reins behind me."—AtooM Fie
1 Press.
V. C. SMITH. PflWislier.
WOIUIS OF WISDOM.
Humanity is the equity of thehaarte
Pleasure is the reward of admiration.
The first and worst of all faults is
to cheat one’s self.
Bear little trials patiently that you
may learn how to bear groat ones.
There are more people who can for
get themselves than govern them
selves.
Be loving, and you will nover want
fonlove; he humble, and you will never
want for guiding.
In Palestine they say that he who
first become? silent in aquarrel spifags
from a good family.
Solitude is a powerful aid to roll co-
Jon and imagination. Tho higher
faculties necessarily dwindle in a per
petual bustle.
There ls nothing nobler in man than
courage; and the only way to be
e-icragoous is to be clean-handed and
hearted, to be able to respect ourselves
an face our record.
Knowledge may slumber in the
memory, but it never dies ; it is like
the dormouse in the ivied tower, that
sleeps while winter lasts, but awakes
with the warm breath of spring.
Nothing is more unmanly than to
reflect on any man’s profession or
natural infirmity. He who stirs up
against himself another’s self-love
provokes the strongest passion in
human nature.
The shortest and surest way to live
with honor in the world is to be in
reality what we would appear to be;
and if we observe, we shall find that
all human virtues increase and
strengthen themselves by tho practice
aud experience of them.
Two American Fab! a.
A Fox who was being Pursued by
the Hounds came upon a Hare silting
in the bushes and called out:
“If anybody inquires for mu please
jay that you haven’t seen me for •
month Past.”
“ Oh, I couldn’t do that,” replied the
Hare—“that would Vie Lying.”
“Very well, then, supposeyou take a
run across to yonder I ence and back
and tell me if there isauy snow on the
other side?”
“With pleasure," answered tho
Hare, and sway she sailed
The Hounds got sight of her as she
sped along, and directly the whole
pack were hard at her heels.
“That comes of being too proud,”
chuckled the Fox, as he saw her finally
overtaken. “The skin of a Hare who
died for Truth isn’t halt as valuable
as the pelt of a Fox who lives to Lie.”
A Wolf who bad grown old and
gray and could no longer move about
like a Farmer’s Hoy in front of a
Bumble-Bee, raw with ltegrot and
Sorrow that his Son looked upon him
as a Burden and wished him Bounced
from the Cabinet. He was one day
wiping his Tearful Eyes on a Sheep
skin when the Son entered the Cave
and remarked:
“Dear Father, how would you like
to take a walk with me this fine
day/’
“ Do you really want me to?”
“Os course I do. Your health i*
very dear to me, and I have been.
Pained for some days past to seo how;
l>ale and careworn you looked.”
The Old Man felt as tickled as s |
hired man with the Boss gone and
both Oxen too lame to Work, and tliai
pair set out with smiles galloping •
across their faces. When they had
penetrated tho Forest a long distance
a Lion suddenly appeared, and the Son
called out:
“ King of Beasts. I have brought
you a Dinner! Eat him and tally one
for me I”
“Stay!" roared the Lion. “This
chap seems old and tough, and I am
not the sort to eat poor meat when
better can he had. You are the din
ner I want to get hold of I”
“ Well, well I” mused the Old Wolf
as he trolled homeward alone, “if it
Is sad to bo old and tough, it is like
wise dangerous to be young and tender,
and after all 1 will malm the best of
my lot. William Henry didn’t get
more than a rod ahead of me on that
dent- not if I can see straight!”—
Detroit Free Press.
A (W)rap for Him.
Heavy swell— “l don’t seo any
thing in winter to be afwaid of, Mia*
Montague, if ano wapa up well"
Young lady (who owes him one);—
“Some person* don’t wait till tho wim.
tor for that, Mr. SweUton. They *r»
wrapped up all tho year round—to
themself* r