CHARLOTTE MESSENGER. VOL. I. NO. 47. THE MODEL AMERICAN GIRU A practical, plain girl; « N'ot-afraid-of-the-rain young girl) A poetical posy, A ruddy and rosy, A helper-of-self young girl, At-home-in-her-plaoe young girt | A never-will-lac j young girl; A toiler serene, A life pure and clean, A princesß-of-peace young girl j A wear-her-own-hair young girl f A free-from-a-etare young girl | Improves eve*y hour. No sickly sunflower, A wealth-of-rare-sense young girL Plenty-room-in-her-shoes young girt; No indulger-in-blbes young girl; Not a bang on her brow. To fraud not a bow, She's a just-wbat-she-seems young gid. Not a reader-of-trash young girl; Not a cheap jewel-flash young girl i Not a sipper of rum. Not a chewer of gum, A marvel-of-sense young girt* An early-retiring young girt; • An active, aspiring young girl A morning ariser, A dandy despiser, A progressive American girl* A lover-of-prose young girl; Not a tum-up-your-nose young girl; Not given to splntter,- Not “utterly utter, n • But a matter-of-fact young girl* A rightly-ambitious young girl; Red-lips-moet-delioious young girl # A sparkling clear eye, That says, “ I will try/* A mre-to-suoceed young girL An honestly-courting young girl; A uever-seen-flirting young girl; A quite and pore, A modest demure, A fit-for-a-wife young girl j A young girl 9 A future-most-fair yonng girl; An ever discreet. We too seldom meet Tins queen-among-queens yonng girl. I'irgil A. Pinkley, in Cincinnati Enquirer UNDER FALSE COLORS. “ A literary man, eh ?’’ said Octavia rlenn. ‘-Author of ‘Stray Leaves’ ind ‘ Floating Fancies!’ Then why in he name of all the muses and graces -in't hp about his work ?” Little Fernanda drew herself up vith some excitement. “ He is having his spring vacation,” aid she. “He is resting his over vearied brain a little, before the public hall become clamorous for more vritiugs from his pen.” “ Oh !” said Octavia. “ Ves,” nodded her younger sister. ‘ And, oh, Octavia, you can’t think io\v charming he is ! I have always iqhed to know an author. And heisn't i bit conceited or set up !” “ Isn't he?" “Not a particle. He has written iis autograph in my album, and given ne a copy of ‘Floating Fancies.’ And Jury Martinez is quite wild about Jim. And, Octy—” “Well?” ‘ l’lease don’t say anything about be store,” coaxed Fernanda. “1 have ;iven him to understand that you are aking a course of lessons in music and borough baas. It isn’t genteel to be a shop-girl, you know, and —” “ Holty toity!” said Octavia, with a toss of her really handsome head. This is a pretty state of things, and til about a man who writes buks. isn’t it just as genteel for ine to aell buttons and co'ogne and lace x* it is for him to sell his writings? dud haven’t I a right, to earn my own iving in any way that I choose? Fernanda, I didn’t think you were such » goos?!” “ He is very particular about such things," said Fernanda. “He didn’t want an introduction to Melissa llumb iftcr he heard that she worked in the factory.” “ More fool he!” said Octavia, •riaply. “He is a gentleman, you know,’ ilcaded Fernanda. “ Pshaw !” said Octavia. “ Octy's right— Octy’s right, my !ear,”said old Grandfather Glenn, who had been sitting so still in his arm-chair near by that neither of the girls sup posed that the subject of their die tour .e was known to him. “A true gent.eman h mors the woman as earns her own bread. There's a deal of ■iectroplate in this world, and some of t is laid <m so skillful you can’t dis tinguish It from real silver. But the silver’s silver for all that, and the other’s only humbug!” CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., MAY 26, 1883. Having uttered which oracular sen tences old Mr. Glenn once more re lapsed into silence. “Grandpa is so queer!” said Fer nanda, with an injured expression of countenance. “ But you’ll promise me, won’t you, dear?” Bui Octavia only laughed, and went out into the kitchen to see if the bread was light enough for the oven. Mr. Fitz Arragon was certainly rather handsome. He was dressed very elegantly, also; he wore what was either a diamond or a very ex cellent imitation of one on his linger, and his cravats were simply superb. He looked at Octavia Glenn with soma interest when they were introduced. “You are foad of music?’ he said, in that soft, insinuating way which Fernanda found so irresistible. “I'don't object to it,” said Octavia, bluntly,. “Irs a divine gift,” Fitz Arragon. “ May I ask if you are tak ing lessons from Ferrani or Agra monte?" “ Neither one of ’em,” said Octavia. And at tbat juncture Fernanda hurried the literary man away to look at a beautiful cluster of trailing ar butus which some one had just brought in from the woods. . “There's no telling what Octy would blurt out if you once gave her the chance," said she. And she did not breathe freely until Octavia had left the old farmhouse and gone back to her duties in the big fancy store on Twenty-third street. Octavia herself felt »> if some dis agreeable pressure were removed from her existence. She was a frank, noble natured girl, who was saving up her earnings to pay off the mortage on old Grandfather Glenn’s farm. She delighted in work, not only for its own sake, hut for the beneficial re sults it could produce ; and she had sufficient of courage and self-denial to live plainly until her object was at tained. She occupied a fireless hall bedroom in a shabby little downtown boarding house, patronized mostly by the guild of working people, whose only recom mendation was its scrupulous neat ness. She wore cotton gloves, dyed-over gowns and the plainest of plain bon nets. and through it ail she respected herself. Stay, though—we have not told it all! There was one extravagance in which (Xtavia Glenn occasionally in dulged herself—that of charity. She iiad a cviss of innocent-faced children in the mission school, of an evening, and Bhe was a diligent worker in the ranks of a quiet benevolent society, which wrought a great deal of good without any blowing of trumpets. And one day when the feeble old porter at the store fell ill and his place was vacant, Octavia Glenn constituted herself a committee of one to inquire into the matter. “Os course you can do as you like. Miss Glenn,” 'said Mr. Idem, the pro prietor of the store. “ But Ferrigan lives in a most di nial neighborhood, and I’m not sure that it is altogether safe for you to venture there after dark." “ After dark is all the time I have, said Octavia, brusquely. “And it must be a great deal worse to live there than to go once in awhile. I think I’ll risk it.” So she begged permission from the lioarding-house keeper to make a little farina jelly over the cooking-stove when the heavy, blackberry dump lings. which were to regale the boarders for dessert, were taken up, bought a few strawberries and a small slice of sponge-cake, and set forth to visit old Ferrigan, the porter. It was a dismal neighborhood, in deed, where the poor old man lived— a neighborhood where piles of ashes in the narrow street made a sort of model of the Bocky mounta ns, on a small scale, and layers of cabbage-leaves and damaged lettuce festered in the gutter; where rivulets of soapsuds trickled acros. the pavement; and there ap peared to be more feeble groceries than there were people. The very gaslights sulked behind their cloudy lanterns, and the occasional passers prowled by like homeless cats. “Number ninety-nine.” said Oc tavia, briskly walking into a thread and-needle store, where an old woman sat fast asleep behind the counter. “Does Mr. Ferrigan board here?” The old woman roused herself and looked about. “ (second Hoor back, said she, and instantly fell asleep again. Octavia smiled. “ I can find my way myself, I don t doubt,” she thought. And she did. The whole house seemed to be damp. Blotches of blue mold had broken out here and there on the ceiling, the walls felt damp and clammy to the touch, as if Octavia had put her hand by mis take on a snail; vegetable-scented whiffs came up now and then frpm the cellar, and the room in which old Ferrigan lay gasping with rheumatic pains felt more like a dungeon than anything else. No carpet was there, no table, only a shelf, where a dispirited kerosene lamp had smokeddts chimney into a black cylinder; no chairs, the window uncurtained; and the shabby bed spread was tattered and soiled until its pattern was beyond all recognition. Octavia’s soul recoiled from this im personation of hopeless poverty. “ Can I do anything for you, Mr. Ferrigan?” she asked, after she had tenderly administered the farina-jelly, the fruit and the sponge-cake, straight ened up the bedclothes and trimmed the lamp afresh. “It’s very good of you, I am sure,” said the old man, with the plaintive; courte.y of his nation. “ And 111 not; deny it was a word of comfort and. kindness that I was wearying for. ( But it won’t be needful long, I’m< hoping. I’ve sent word to my son— he’s a bookbinder, miss, and doing well at bis trade, but it is natural like, don't you see? as he wouldn’t like to be dragged down by such a useless old clog as me!” “ But he is your son, isn’t he ?” cried Octavia ; “ and you’re his father?” “faith, and that's true, miss, dear.’ said old Ferrigan, with a sigh. “ Bat he's a fine, ambitions young man—a rale gintleraan to look at, and of a Sunday you couldn’t tell him from the gentry themselves. An’ he may marry a grand lady yet—who knows ? —an’ he wouldn’t like me to be spoilin’ his chances. So I just keep dark, Miss Glenn ; an’ sometimes I think—Lord forgive me!—that I’d be better dead an’ out of the way. But I sent word to him day before yesterday. An’ he'll come—l think he’ll come !” the old man added, with a scarcely audible sigh. At that moment a careless step came up the stairs—the door was pushed open and a tall figure strode in. “Sick again !” said a petulant tone. “It appears to me, old gentleman, that it’s your chief mission in life to make trouble for other people. Well, what is it now ? If it’s money you want, you may as well understand, first as last, that I can’t let you have any. You’ll have to swallow that absurd prejudice of yours against charitable institutions, or—" He stopped short, impelled by the hurried gesture of the old man’s hand. “ Soinebcdy’s here ?" said he, peer ing through the semi-darkness. “ Well, why couldn’t y,ou say so ? Who is it ? The old hag downstairs, or—” “It is I, Mr. Fitz Arragon,” said Octavia, quietly advancing—“ Octavia Glenn.” “ Oh, I beg a thousand pardons!” said Mr. Ferrigan Fitz Arragon, hur riedly assuming his “company” man ners. “If I could have imagined that such an honor as this was in store for me—” •• I don’t know what you mean by such honors,” said Octavia,. bluntly. “I am a working girl; you are a book binder. We have neither of ns any reason to be ashamed of our calling; yet I see no necessity for fine language and stilted titles. Your poor old father is very ill, and seems to be in need of the commonest necessities of life. Suppose you sell your diamond ring and help him ?” That was the end of Mr. Fitz Arragon’s pretensions. He never came back to the country solitudes again, to Fernanda Glenn’s bitter dis appointment. But how could he face, them all after it was discovered that his “author ship” of “Stray Leaves” and “ Float ing Fancies” was confined only to putting the covers on the same, and that the real author was a stout, short, oi l gentleman in spectacles, and that even hit name was a fabrication of his own ingenious brain ? Old Mr. Ferrigan died. Perhaps, as he himself had hinted, it was the best and wisest thing he could do. But Octavia Glenn’s kindness and watchful care soothe I his Last hours, and she had the s itisfai tion of getting the pri eof a decent funeral out of the ambitious son. “ A jay in borrowed plumage!” she thought. “I never despised any one Bu mu h in my life 1” And when Fernanda bewailed her delusion, old Grandfather Glenn only smiled and said: “ Didn't I tell y«u that ha was only eleotro-plated?" THE BAD ROY AND THE BAND HE GETS UP A SEBEHASE EH HOXOB OP HIS PA. Tlie old (irntlpmnn Entertains the tseeen nilcra With a Spect-h anS Iterreahaienta- Strrloua Tronbl a at the Church. “ What was it I heard about a band serenading your father, and his invit ing them in to lunch?” said the gro cery maD to the bad boy. ” Don't let that get out, or pa will kill me dead. It was a joke. One of these Bohemian bands that goes about town playing tunes, for pennies, was over on the n#tt street, and I told pa I guessed some of his friends who had heard we had a baby at the house had hired a band and was coming in a few minutes to serenade him, and he better prepare to make a speech. Pa is proud of being a father at his age, and he thought it was no more than right for the neighbors to serenade him, and he went to loading himself for a speech, in the library, and me and my chum went out and told the leader of the band there was a family up there that wanted some music, and they didn't care for expense, so they quit blowing where they was and came right along. None of them could understand Eng lish except the leader,and he only under stood enough to go and take a drink when he is invited. My chum steered the band up to our house and got them to play ‘Babies on our Bio k,’ and ‘Baby Mine,’ and I stopped all the men who were going home and told them to wait a minute and they would see some fun, so when the band got through the second tune, and the Prussians were emptying the beer out of the horns, and pa stepped out on the porch, there was more nor a hundred people in front of the house. You’d a dide to see pa when he put his hand in the breast of his coat, and struck an attitude. He looked like a congressman, or a tramp. The band was scared, ’cause they thought he' was mad, and some of them were going to run, thinking he was going to throw pieces of brick house at them, but my chum and the leader kept them. Then pa sailed in. He com menced. ‘Fellow citizens,’ and then went away hack to Adam and Eve, and worked up to the present day, giving a history of the notable people who had a ‘quired children, and kept the crowd interested. I felt sorry for pa, cause I knew how he would feel when he rame to find out he had been sold. The Bohemians in the hand that couldn't understand English, they looked at each other, and wondered what it was all about, and finally pa wound up by saying that it was every citizen’s duty to own i h ldren of his own, and then he invited the band and the crowd in to take some refresh ments. Well, you ought to have seen that hand come in tue house. They fell over each other getting in. and the crowd went home, leaving pa and . my chum and me and the band. Eat? Well, I should smile. They just reached for things, anil talked Bohemian. Drink? Oh, no. Igu ss they didn't pour it down. Pa opened a dozen bottles of chaui| agne, and they fairly bathed in it, as though they had a fire inside. Pa tried to talk with them about the baby, but they couldn’t understand, and finally they got full and started out, and the leaier asked pa for three dollars, and that broke him up. Pa told the leader he supposed the gentle men who had got up the serenade had paid for the music, and the leader pointed to me and said I was the gentleman that got it up. Pa paid him, but he had a wicked look in his eye, and me and my chum lit out, and the Bohemians came down the street bilin’ full, with their horns on their arms, and they were talking Bohemian for ail that was out. They stopped in front of a vacant house and began to play, but you couldn't tell what tune it was, they were so full, and a policeman came along and drove them home. I guess I will sleep ct the livery stable to-night, cause pa is offul unreasonable when anything costs lam thres dollars, beside the champagne. ’ “ Well, you have made a pretty mess of it," said the grocery man. “ It’s a wonder your pa does not kill you. But what is it I hear about the trouble a' ilie church? They lay that foolishness to you.” “ It’s a lie. They lay everything to me. It was some of them ducks that ling in the choir. I was just as much Surprised as anybody when it occurred. Vou see, our minister is laid up from the effect of the ride to the funeral, when he tried to run over a street ear. »nd nn old deaiou, who had symptoms jt being a minister in hia youth, was nvited to take the minister’s place ind talk a little. He is a* afaaeat- ?. C. SMITH. Publisher. I minded old party, who don’t keep up with the events of -he day, and whe ever played it on hill knew that hr was too pious to even read the dailj papers. 1 here was a notice of a choii meeting tc* b• • rend and I think tin tenor smuggled in the other notice between that and the one about th< weekly prayer meeting. After tin deacon read the choir notice he tool up the other one and read, • I am re quested to announce that the Y. M. C Association wilt give a friendly enter tainment with soft gloves, on 'i uesday evening, to which all are invited Brother John Sullivan, the eminent Boston revivalist, will lead the exercises, assisted by Brothel Slade, the Maori missionary from Australia. There will be no slug ging; but a collection will be taken up at the door to defray expenses.’ Well I thought the people in church would sink through the floor. There wasnot a person in the church, except the poor old deacon, but what un terstood that some wicked wretch had deceived him, and I know by the way the tenor tickled the soprano, that he did it. I may be mean, but everything I do is innocent and I wouldn’t be - as mean as a choir singrr for two dollars. I felt real sorry for the old deacon, but he never knew what he had done, and I think it would be real mean to tell him. He won’t be at the slugging match. That remark about taking up a collection s-tthd the deacon. I must go down to the stable now and help grease a hack, so you will have to excuse me. If pa comes here looking for me. tell him you heard I was going to drive a picnic party out to Wau kesha. and may not be back in a week. By that time pa will get over that Bohemian serenade," and the boy filled his pistol pocket with dried apples and went out and hung a sign in front of the grocery. “Strawberries two shillin a smell, and one smell is enuff.”— (f. W. Peck. The Prevention of Insanity. Dr. Nathan Allen, of Lowell. Mass., in a pamphlet on the subject, calls at tention to the prevention of insanity ai a question which, although much negle.-ted, is at least quite as important as that of tiie cure of insanity. The disease is very largely dependent on physical and sanitary conditions, and these should be studied out and brought within such regulation as will prevent its development. Since, according to the late Sir Jaites Coxe. insanity originates in some form of disease or in a deterioration of the body rather than in an exclusive affection of the nervous system, its growth should be checked by a general diffusion of the knowledge of the laws of the human organism and the use of all means necessary for the preservation of good health. So far as insanity is heredi tary, its transmission should be pre vented by avoiding marriage with persons predisposed to it. It should be the aim of the medical profession to become so well acquainted with the diseases of the nervous sv; tem and the brain that they could detect the first symptoms of disturbed or deranged states of mind, so as to be able to treat them understandrogly, and, in all probability, in many cases successfully.’ —Popular Science Monthly. There’s Where He Had Her. “ Two hundred dollars for making a. plain dress?” he yelled, as he saw the. bill—“ I’ll never pay it!” “ You have been very stingy with me for the last year," she replied. “ You are extravagant!” “No more than you are!” “ I’ll never pay this bill ” “You must!” “ Never! “ Then I’ll pawn my diamonds and pay it myself!” “Ha r “ Yes, ha !” He goe i out chuckling. He knows her to t.e a woman of her word, and he is wondering how she will feel a the pawnbroker politely hands them back, with the observation: “ We never advance money on the paste article 1” Wall Street Neu w. Elephant’s Milk. The compueition of elephant’s milk, according to the analysis of Dr. (juei*- n-ville, in the Moniteur SeimUfiqtP. is similar to that of crean, but its consistency is different. lib odor and tast ■ are very agreeable, and the taste' is superior t > that of most other kinds of milk. It is about equal to cow’s milk in quality. In view of these facts, La Nature, of Paris, does not despair of seeing the day when an ad venturous speculator shall bring a tro ip of elephants to bedrivi n through the streets ot the city as golds are now driven, to furnish each customer with his oup of milk direct from the teat.

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