CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. I. NO. 49.
ON THE EDGE OF THE MARSH.
Dead sienna and rusty gold
Tell the year on the marsh is old.
Blacteied and bent, the sedges shrink
Back from the sea-pool’s frosty brinks ,
Low in the west a wind-cloud lies v
Tossed and wild in the aritumn Bkiee.
Over the marshes, mournfully,
Drifts the sound of the restless sea.
m JUNE.
Pair and green is the marsh in June;
Wide and warm in the sonny noon.
The flow *ing rushes fringe Ids pool
With slender shadows, dim and cool.
From the low bushes “ Bob Whlie calls
Into his nest a rose-leaf falls,
The b'ue-flag fades; and through the heat?
Far otf. the sea’s faint pmses beat.
—Miss A, A . Bassett, in Harper's*
OUR HOSTESS’S DAUGHTER.
“ Come," I said, ri ling and throwing
aside my book—'“come, Traverse, we
have had work enough tor. one day.
Let us take a sunset walk on the obi
rainpa t-, and have our tea at that
charming little restaurant under'the
beeches.”
Traverse took a last lingering look
at his skttch, then carefully set back
the easel against the wall, and we
descended tue stair from our apart
ments on the upper floor, where we
enjoyed a view of the housetops of
the quaint l.ttle town of Neur. ide, on
the banks of the wide and winding
Shine.
“Stop a moment,” Traverse said, as
we reached the first floor. “We will
see if there are any letters. I desired
the Frau Hans ng not to bring them
up hereafter, for, good woman though
she is. her talk is rather overpower
ing."
Wo had been recommended to Frau
llansing’s lodgings by a fair cousin of
my own who was visiting a >me half-
English, half-tierman relatives near
Bonn.
“if you .stop at Neureide,” she
wrote, “my relative, Madame Estorf,
desires me to say that you will find ex
cellent lodgings with Frau Hansing,
an old and faithful servant of hers,
who will make you very comfortable.”
And, despite Frau Hanging's love of
talking, of which Traverse mildly com
planed, we bad found the promise
amply fulfilled, and hadso far no cause
to regret oar choice of lodgings.
The old lady opened the door in an
swer toTraverse’s light tap, and her
plump, rosy face assumed an express
ion of commis ration and sympathy.
“ Ah, mein liirr, so sorry 1 Ho let
ters to-day—though,” i-bn aided, cheer
fully, in her broken English, on which
she prld d herself. “ Likely there will
becomes much lette-s one day, to-mor
row, and then the Herr shall rejoice to
bis full contentment to hear from his
home.”
Over her shoulder 1 saw that she
had d e rated her little sitting-room
with flowers and evergreens.
“ You are expecting company, Frau
Hinsing?”
“ Ah, yes, mein Herr; but it is only
niy little Bertha—my daughter, who
is companion to Madame Estorf. A
nice, dear little girl, and my only
me.”
And the old lady's eyes shone with
pride and delight as she thus spoke of
her daughter:
“.She is with tnadame, who is now
it Liudcsheim, < n a visit; and, its being
io near, madame has kindly consented
to her coming to us for one week. Sfie
'■s very clever an I pretty, is my little
Bertha, though it is I who say it; for,
was she not brought up by madame,
-mi) in great part with madame's own.
'.•'anddaughter, the Fraulein Estorf?
it was very kind of them to treat my
ittle Bertha so well; but. then, I my
•elf was nurse to the poor little grand
laughter when her own mother died,
w. l. she is a great heiress now, at the
Herr knows.”
It was true that my Cousin Jolla, In
describing the family in which she was
now sta. ing. had more than once al
'uded to this Fraulein Estorf. She
was granddaughter of the old madame
>f the same name, and was the real
>wner of the estate on which they re
ddl'd near B inn. with the handsome
■bateau and the valuable vineyards
adjoining. Keyo d this, 1 knew noth
mg of the Fraulein Estorf; though the
probability was that I might some
line meet her. as in this our summer's
holiday-trip Traverse and I were
lowly making our way up the Shine
•award Bonn—which was, in fact, the
objective point of my travela; tor I
must let the render Into the seer** of
my engagement to my fair English
"(main. Jut a.
That evening, returning rattier late
CHARLOTTE, MECKLENBURG CO., N. C., JUNE 16, 1883.
from our al fresco tea, we observed
Frau Hansing s door half open, and
the tall, graceful figure of a young g rl
standing under the hanging-lamp read
ing a letter.
“That must l>e Bertha,” said Tra
verse, his artist’s eye instantly attract
ed. “ Let us see what she is like.”
“ Any letters yet, Fraa Hansing?”
he inquired, peering into the room; and
the girl turned around quickly, dis
playing a lovely, piquant, brunette
face, with dark eyes find delicate
cherry-red lips.
” Frau Hansing is out,” she said,
modestly.
“I beg your pardon. Yon are the
Fraulein Bertha?” said Traverse, re
solved, as it seemed, to make her ac
quaintance, and at the same time lift
ing his hat with grac ful courtesy.
“ Yes,” she answered, with some sur
prise and also a certain, re .erve.
“ Excuse me; but 1 knew you were
expected. And since the Frau Han
sing is absent, will the Fraulein be
good enough to give me my letters, if
there are any?”
1 had passed up the stairs, and it was
fully five minutes before my friend
joined me. /
“What a charming little creature is
our landlady’s daughter!” he said, quite
enthusiastically. “ Such lovely features,
and so much expression! And then
one can see that she has been 1 rought
up with cultured and refined people;
Really, there is something about her
quite magnetic.” *
So indeed it appeared, judging from
the frequency with which, on the fol
lowing day, my friend journeyed up
and down the stairs, at first anxious to
receive letters and then on some
newly-discovered business which ne
cessitated frequent inquiries at the
door of Frau llansing’s rooms. More
than once, in passing this door, I
beheld him seated on our landlady's
horsehair sofa, engaged in an animated
conversation with Bertha.
“l)o you know,” said he, with the
air of one communicat ng an important
discovery, “ that the Fraulein is as in
telligent and accomplished as she is
beautiful? What a pity that she is
only our landlady’s daughter !”
Thus the week passed. For myself, I
only saw Bertha in the evenings. She
certainly was a charming g.rl, refined
and ladylike, though dressing in a
simple bourgeoise style, and engaging,
as we had opportunity of observing, in
occupations not above her station—
such as knitting stockings for her
mother and assisting the old lady in
household duties, even to cooking and
cleaning. That she did not do this at
the chateau she acknowledged. Her
business there was to walk out with
and read to the old madame, even to
sing and play for her; and she played
uncommonly well, as we had oppor
tunity for observing.
“It is unfortunate,” I remarked,
“that the girl has been educat'd above
her station. SBe is sup rior to marry
ing a common bourgeoise, and is not
yet fitted fpr a higher rank by reason of
her fam ly.”
“That is true,” said Traverse, slow
ly. “Now, for instance, if I were to
think of marrying Bertha, charming
and ladylike though she is, my whole
fam iy would be down upon me; and,
in fact,” he add d, hesitatingly, “I
don't think I could bring myself to take
such a step. I shall require good birth
in the wo nan whom I marry.”
“Then hadn’t you better break off at
once with the Fraulein B rtha? It
seems to me that you are carrying this
matter too far not to give it a serious
ending."
• She is going away in a day or two,”
he answered, rather d defullv.
And she did go. We saw her back
into the stage wh ch was to take her
back to Hud sheim and Msdame Es
torf, and, judging from her bright face
and laughing adieux, she carritd away
a h art as whole as she had brought to
Neureide. But witj> my friend It was
different, and from the hour of her de
parture he became restless and dissat
isfied. We cons iquently soon resumed
our pilgrimage up the Rhine, stopping
here and there wherever wefound any
thing specially picturesque or interest
ing to afford a subject for our amateur
pencil*.
It was on September 1 that we
reached Bonn. Leaving my frien 1 at
a hotel, I lost no t me in making my
wav to the Cha eau Kotherberg, about
two English miles from the town,
where I had the great delight of being
greeted by Julia, looking toirer and
sweeter. I thought, than I had ev r
before seen her. Madame Estorf also
accorded me a moat kindly welcome,
and on teaming that I was accom
panied by a friend. Insisted upon our
both dining with her on the following
i mentioned to Jnlla our
meeting with Maiame EstcrFs pretty
companion at Neureide, she laughed
merrily. ,
“ She is the most arrant of little
coquettes, that Bertha Hansing,” she
said. “My cousin has quite spoil d
her, and so indeed has the Fraulein
Estorf. But she is a good girl, never
theless, and I don’t won.ler that her
mother is so proud of her.”
“Wb re is this Fraulein Estorf?” I
inquired.
“I will introduce you to-fnnflfdw.
S!io.#s not nearly so' pretty, in my.
opinion, as little Bertha,” she added,
lightly, “but then she is an heiress,
and 1 confess that were I not so cer
tain of your not being of a mercenary
nature, 1 should Be afraid to expose
you to such a temptation. As it is, 1
shall insist upon your bringing yom
friend, since you describe him as sc
hand ome aid fascinating. That will
deprive you of all c iaice of making
an impression upon the heiress," she
concluded, mischievously.
On taking leave, Julia and Madame
Estorf’s nephew, a youth on a vaca
tion visit, accompanied me on a pri
vate path through the grounds. The
scenery was love.y and the view from
the highest point of the shaded terrace
way fine beyond description, and so 1
told Traverse on my return to the
hotel.
“ I will accompany you to-morrow
as far as that point,” he said, “us it
may add a subject to my portfolio; but
1 must derime the madame’s hospit
able invitation. To tell you the truth,
Elliott, I don't dare expose myself to
the possibility of again meeting Bertha
Hansing.”
I rather approved of the resolution;
so on the following day we leftour con
veyance at the entrance to the grounds
and proceeded along the terraced path
way toward the chateau. At the point
of view already mentioned was a little
round, open pavilion, upon reaching
which, imagine our surprise to behold
seated there, in a comfortable wheel id
chair, old Madame Estorf, and by her
side our landlady’s daughter, the fair
Bertha, reading to the old lady from a
French novel.
It was too late to retreat; so we
came forward with all possible dignity,
and I formally presented my friend to
madame, who, in her turn, quietly re
marked : “ I think you and Bertha have
met before.”
Bertha blushed to her fair templps,
but glanced up with a demure, half
roguish smile. Even to me she looked
more charming than ever, being dressed
more richly and becomingly than I had
yet seen her.
“ This is a favorite taunt of ours,”
expla ned the old lady. “ But the sun
is getting uncomfortably warm, and it
is high time that Peter should come for
me.”
Peter did presently appear, and as he
leisurely wheeled his mistress home
ward. I walked by her side, leaving
Traverse and Bertha to follow.
On arriving at the chateau, madame,
accompanied by her companion, went
away to attend to her toilet, she said,
and Traverse and I were for a few
moments left alone in the saloon.
“ It is all up with me, Eliott," he
said, in a low voi e, but with singular
firmness. “It is an unworthy pride,
after all, which would lead a man to
sacrifice the woman he loves to
aristocratic prejudice. 1 now know
that Ido really love Bertha; and if
she will have me I will marry her.
She is a perfect lady in all but birth.”
It was no time for remonstrance.,
Julia’s step was in the hall, and after
ward Madaine Estorf again made li'-r
appearance, arrayed en grand toilet
for dinner.
“Shall we see the Fraulein Hansing
again ? ’ X ventured to whisper to
Julia, but madame’s quick ear kal
caught the que-ticn.
“The Fraulein Hansing will not ap
pear at dinner,” she said, quietly;
“but X will introduce you to my grand
daughter, Fraul in Estorf. Ah, here
she is, in good time!”
A grai eful, elegant girl, richly
dressed in silk and la e, stood In the
doorway. Could it he possible? This
young lady was certainly our landlady’s
daughter. There were th- same regular
features, the same roguish eyes, though
her mannei was now one of more
stately dignity.
Traverse stood as if petrified. But
the young lady came forward and
offered her hand to both of us, sith a
charming air of archness and grace.
“ You have known me before as your
landlady s daughter,” she said. “That
was your own fault in the first in
stance and not same. I am Bertha
Estorf."
It did not take long to explain (tie
mystery.
“The Fean Kanatng ta my sorter
mother,” said the young lady, “and
when I go to Neureide, as I Soinetin.es
do on business for my grandmethe-, X
stay at her house. S.ie was exp-ccting
her daughter on the occasion when i
met you, but grandmamma concluded
to send me an l allow Bertha to visit
her mother later. X did not know of
you gentlemen being at Neureide, anJ
since it pleased you to take me for
your landlady s daughter, X thought it
best to humor you in the famyreafop.t
that suttcient
mamma?” she added, Witfra chaining
smile as she turned toward tfcpßj.il
lady.
“Quite sufficient for the present.
We were all in the secret, my little
English' cousin indudeu,” she said,
glancing at Julia, whose eyes were
sparkling with delight through the
half-deprecating look which she cast
at me
“You will forgive my deceit, won’t
you?” she whispered, as we proceeded
down the long gallery to dinner. “But
it seemed such fun! A real plot, such
as We read of in novels. And, do you
know,” she added, lower still, “ X think
it Will end as novels do, in a mar
riage!"
“In two marriages,” I corrected
her. And, as it turned out, my pre
diction was fulfilled.
I and my wife pay a visit every
summer to the Chateau Rotherberg,
and admire Mrs. Traverse’s embr >id
ery and her husband’s pictures. And
which is ihe happiest couple perhaps
the reader would find it difficult to
decide.
The Action of the Heart.
As with each stroke the heart pro
jects something like six ounces of
blood into the conduits of the system,
and as it does so some seventy times
in a minute and 4.200 times in an hour,
l his implies that it does the same thing
100,SIX) t.mes in twenty-four hours,
80,000,000 times in a year, and more
than 2,500,0)0,000 times in a life of
seventy years. The mechanical force
that is exerted at each stroke amounts
to a pressure of thirteen pounds upon
the entire charge of blood that has to
be pressed onward through tlie branch
ing network of vewls. According
to the lowest estimate that has be n
ma le, this gives an exertion of force
that would be adequate, in another
form of application, to lift ltd) tons
one foot high every twenty-four hours.
Yet the piece of living mechanism
that is called upon to do this, and do it
without a pause for threescore years
and ten without being itself worn out
by the effort, is a small bundle of fiesh
that rarely weighs more than eleven
ounces. It is in the nature of the case,
also, it must be remembered, that this
little vital tr.acliine cannot be at any
time stopped for repair. If it gets out
of order, it must lie set right as it runs.
To stop the beating of the heart for
more than the briefest interval would
be to change life into death. The
narrative of what medical science has
done to penetrate into the secrets of
this delicate force-pump, so jealously
guarded from the intrusion of the eye
that it cannot even be looked into
until its action has ceased, is, never
theless, a long history of wonders. By
means of the spygmograp—a writing
style attached to tiie wrist by a system
of levers and springs—the pulse is
made to reiord actual autographs of
cardiac and vascular derangement—
Edinburgh Review.
Yalne or a Goldsmith's Mio?.
pine floor laid in a gold worker’s
shop in ten years becomes worth $l5O
per foot. A Syracuse jeweler once
bought for less than fifty dollars some
sweepings that gave S2OB worth of
golJ. A tub in his cellar. Into which
is blown the dust from a polishing
lathe, accumulates fifty dollars a year.
A wufkman in his shop carried off on
the tip of his moistened finger thirty
del ars of fillings in a few weeks.
Workmen sometimes oil their hair and
then run their lingers through it, leav
ing a di posit of gold part eles, which
they afterward wash out —Syracuse
Herald.
An indignant landlord writes de
manding the Dame of the party who
first suggested putting coils of rope in
sleeping rooms as a protection ag dnst
fire. He says he provided every bed
room in his house with a coil of rope,
and the first night three of his guests
towered their biggage from the sixth
story window and skipped, leaving
aevi ral days’ boad bill unpaid. He
allows that being burned to death is
bad enough, but running n hotel for
Cut Is n good deal worse Hathmhr
Expr. m.
The artist's adieu le hhtjlttaii
< You W liwmif'
W. C. SMITH. PnlMtr.
THE BLACK HOUSES,
i Have you seen the black homes
Aa they stand in their places,
With the eteam of their nostrils
And the fire of their faces,
As the* shine in their harness
For their swift, splendid races?
When they ran in the darkness
How they Same in their going!
How they spurn earth behind them!
Haw-Shejnat in them ataansg .
Leasee a trail on the night
Fnaa the sparks they am throwing
*
And the hand of the mastsr-
Ferohanoa yon hath wondered
Bow it kept a firm rain
While they lightened and thundered
In the spaed of their passage
Aa midnight'Was sundered.
Oh, grand are the homes
That whirl os, unsparing
By hillside and bbOow,
Their vigor declaring:
And grand are the driven
Who urge on thair daring 1
Fly faster and fits**r,
Oh, gallant black homes, *
Aa ye fling the hot spame-flakea
Along your smooth courses;
Fly faster, for heartbeats
Shall add to your foment
And grip the long lever,
Oh, hand of the muter,
As the brass eainee like gold
In the teeth of disaster—
While th» bUok faorass’ snorting
Comes f-.a-er and faster 1
-Samuel W. DuffieU.
HUMOR OF THE DAT.
A Georgia young lady is raising
four acres of onions in order to obtain
$1,500. W hen she gets through she
ought to be able to write a companion
piece to Tennyson's “ Tears, Idle
Tears.”
Mrs. Spaggins was boasting of her
new house. Tne windows, she said,
were stglnxL “T„at’s too bad;'but
won’t turpentine or beniine wash it
off ? ’ asked the good Mrs, Olduoy.—
Burlington H iwLege.
“Shall we wear a silk bat?” was the
subject of a lecture by a Brooklyn di
vine recently. That is a question
which no man can answer. Every
thing dej ends on which way the elec
tions go.— lhiladtlphia News.
There is a young fellow in our neigh
borhood who has b en u a.,ing a daily
practice of attempt ng fusing, “Let
me like a soldier die.” He sjems to
crave death, and they do say that one
of the neighbors who l.at a musket is
preparing to accommodate him.—
Saturday Night.
The height of economy has been
reached in i hiladelphia. A woman in
this city, having worn out the heels
and tot's of her red stockings, is going
to use the upper port ons for lining her
bonnet. It won’t, be quite as snowy as
red ta in, but ju t think how much it
saves Phi add pit ia Chronicle.
A woman has been sending bananas
to her husband wno is confined in jail
in St. Louis. They were of a very
peculiar kind, and aredeserv.ngof the
attention of hortcutturists. tin ex
amination they were round to contain
saws and files within their pulpy
b sorns. The impritone l criminal will
hereafter be known by his fru t.
“ What d'ye leave that door wide
open for?" exclaimed the gentleman
in the office to the intruding peddler.
“Oi thought suit,” was the quick 16-
ply, “teat ye moight want to kick me
downstairs, and Oi wanted to make it
convanient for ye, surr.” The g< ntle
man was so taken aback that he,
bought two apples for five cents;
passing off a bad quarter in the trans
action.— Boston Transcript.
Charley, the thre’-year-old of the
household, stood an allent.ve and inter
ested looker-on while grandma was
paring potatoes for dinner, IrtMently
she mad" a sign of discontinuing the
work with a single potito left un
peeled and unwashed. The little fel
low reached into the pin, took it in his
c'mbby band, and turning his bright
eyes in an appealing g'ance to grand
ma’s fate, exc.aimed: “Take ’im dots
olf aad give 'im bass, too.”
A gentleman, who is said to be “one
of the poets laureat of the United;
Stales.” lias written a poem dtscrip
live of a visit to Fg pt, in which he
says: “ Then to the rai road we did g»
To tak-the cars for Oa-i-to; To seethe,
I yraaids was oar tntovt, Be bom Al
exandria we went.” We never nnder-
Jtood before je*t what wet n cent ts ft
“ poet laureat of the United State*.*'
but it U Clear from Writ tpeelTen ttud,
me country u intt Bill! IK mm SmQ
—SanUiesen Beram.