VOLUME V. .
the reporter
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BUSINESS OA
J7eu»7h Henr A. Aktho**
JOHN tf/HAMMOND & CO.
Saddle, Harness, Trunk, and
Colinr Manufacturer#,
Wholesale and Retail,
861 West Baltimore Street, (Opposite the
*""" UI " I **"jsAIVHMORE.
11. E. Bkst, of N. C.,
with
HENRY SONNEBORN & CO.,
Wholesale Clothiers,
297 W. . Baltimore street, corner of
Liberty,
BALTIMORE.
H. Sonneboru, R. Bliuiline.
Xov. 1-thn.
D - C - Fultou
J. F. Bradenbaugh,
CARLIN & FULTON,
Importers of
Hardware) Cutlery, Guns, &c.,
No 20 South Howard street,
. ' ' BALTIMORE.
Special attention given to orders.
Hoy. 1-6H».
WIN GO ELLETT& CRUMP.
Dealers in
loots, Shoes, Trunks &c.,
iau» MAIN STREET
Richmond Va.
North Carolina trade a speciality
pricesjguaranteed as low as any House
North of South.
June 1G 181? 1-y-
J.E GILMEtf.
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
Gemeral Merchandise, Dry
*#•*«, Notions Groceries, &c
Boots and Shoes a speciality.
.Winston N* O.
Jult lfitk.lß76, 1-y.
Vf. Wilton, Jr. F. Burns, Jr. V. 11. . Burn
-B* W. HILL,
WITH
WILSOX, BURNS k CO.
Wkolosale Grocers and
Commission Merchants,
M S. Meward "Street, Cor. of Lombard,
1 BALTIMORE.
• Ws kMj eopstkutf yon hand a large and
well assorted stock of GBoqBKiES, suitable for
th* Boatkern and Western trade. We solicit
of Cobdtbt Produce, such as
CttUm Ftttiwr*, Ginseng, Beeswax/ Wool,
Dried 'Fruit, Fx.rt, Skins, At. Our facilities
l»r d*i»g loainess are such as to warrant
««iek Tf 1 — and prompt returns. All orders
Will kavo oar prompt attention.
* WM. 8. ROBERTSON, ,
WITH
WITKINS A COTTRELL,
.lirOBURB ASD JOBBERS OF
Hardware, Cvtkry, &c.
PdDZMMY GOODS, Bolting Cloth
Cu Packing and Belting,
1807 MAIN STREET,
M .l* RICHMOND. VA
Semi IA. 8. Kyle, Sam'l P. A elms,
Itmtr Molly day, B. L. Duvall.
Wm. 8. RAMSEY, North Carolina.
i
Dinsmore & Kyle,
WHOLESALE
Grocers and Commission
e r,c h a nit s,
No 156 Ht Pratt Street,
BALTIMORE, MD.
May lit 18T5 12-m.
Devoted to the Development of the-Social and Materia', Intercut* of tuix Section.
DANBURY, N. C., THURSDAY, MAKOii 9, 187 ii.
THE SADDEST FATE.
To touch a broken lute,
To strike a jangled string,
To strive with tones forever' mute
The dear old tune to sing—
What sadder-fate could any heart befall 1
Alas! dear child, never to sing at all".
To sigfc for pleasures flown,
To weep lor with red flowers ;
To count the bless'mgs we have known,
Lost with the vanished hours ;
What sadder fate could any heart befall 1
Alas ! dear child ne'r to have known them all!
To dream of love and res*,
To know the dream has past,
To bear within an aching breast
Only a void at last-;-
What sadder fate could any heart befall 1
Alas 1 dear child, se'er to have loved at! all!
To trust an unkrown ««»«>d.
Only to find it pain—
What sadder lute could any soul befall 1
Alas ! dear child, never to hoj>e at all!
Marah Anderson's
Work.
BY "FRIO
CHAPTER VI.
Hardly bad the 6teps of the mid
night visitor died away when i ranks
rushed into Marah's room.
"What in the worli is the matter
with you.?" he inquired, as he held
the light above his head, aud gazed in
amazement at the white face of the
girl.
"Oh, father !" and she sprang trem
blingly towards him, "I was so fright
ened—so frightened !"
"I should think so, from the yell
you gave ! A red-throat Indian was
nothing to it; it was a regular war
whoop ! But what wai it, girl ?"
"A man, father; a dark-faced, wick
ed man. Ah ! he would have killed
me while I slept; there was murder
in that look !" ,
"Pshaw ! you are crazy. A man,
indeed—only in' your imagination.
Nothing more of this, now, for I won't
allow such foolishness."
She looked at him reproachfully—
her large, pathetic eyes full of mourn
ful entreaty, and an earnest, urgent
prayer in her trembling voice. ,
"Oh, please, father, let me come in
your room, lam so afraid ! I can sit
by the fire if you will only let me
come."
"No fire to sit by, of course, this
time of night."
"I can soon make one, lather !"
"No, no! Don't bo a fool, Marah.
Here, I will light this candle for you
Keep it burniug until day if you
wish."
He placed it upon the table and left
her alone. With a bitter cry the girl
sprang into bed and drew the coverlet
over her face, and only God and the
angels, who looked in love and pity
down, knew how that young soul suf
fered duriag the long hours of that
dreary night!
She arose next morning with dull
eyes and a heavy heart. -Soon after
breakfast Franks bade her go to the
market for their daily The
child was weary and sick, but she
knew the storm which would follow a
refusal to obey him ; so she gathered
up her basket and made her way to do
hiß bidding.
On her return she remembered that
there was a near path, which would
cut off half of the long way around.
She determined to go that way. As
she neared the boat bouse, standing
in the middle of the Anderson grounds,
she paused to put her heavy basket
down and rest. She was in the act of
moving on again when voices, which
evidently came from the boat-house,
fell upon her ear.
tier first thought was that some of
the rude boys ol Wycoff had stolen
in for the purpose of appropriating
their boats for a sail on the lake be
luw. Moved by curiosity she crept to
the window, but found she was not
tall enough to look inside. As she
stood a moment irresolute ft voice,
"—*■ :
which was unmistakably Franks.
spoke a reply to his companion. *
"The child must be put out of tfrt
way ! As Pat used to, say, lam b'r
'making her go dead at once.' "
"How do you propose doing it ?"
And the cold, metalic tones of thi*
voice chilled ttie little listener with
horror.
" "Tbte lake is convenient —wJy
strength is wanted. A kitten would
not be long in struggling, you know,
aud I could soon do the job up brownl
Easy enough to hoax the gqpd peujrto
around here. Of course, • fiirl
while out sketching the flowers, ticfe;-,
ri use" a
and the beautiful corpse brought ti
the agonizing father, whoso lamenta
tions shall be equal to the
Ah ! I ought to have been on the Stage,;
I could play the bereav«d parent, so
well!"
"Ah ! Franks, you do play the fath
er weli; but the devil, better. The
shades of Hades are white ii- compar
ison to your sanctimouiius heart."
"Don't be so complimentary,
I ain't use to flattery." . 4
"Well, a truce to flattery then,
to business again. You promise,to
remove this girl within a month, but
I can't exactly reconcile it to my ten
der conscience to strangle the brat;
and, besides, I am rather scrupulous
in regard to having a job done exactly
as it should be. Your idea, qj pian,
would involve rather too much risk t|f
discovery. Suppose you try poison«
with which I can supply you, and givo
her a small dose in the morning ? You
do the cooking, so it will work admir
ably. She will Ijegin to grow pale
and languid, and of course you
then to call in Doctor Ifeatris- He
will be apt to caH it consumption 'or 1 -
something of the sort, and physie her
for that disease. But all the medioine
in the world combined will not save
-her after the poison once fixes itself
upon her. She will die aa apparently
natural death, and we will be safe and
she out of the way. How do you like
it ?"
"Oh, the very tiling, Doc; blame
me if it uin't!"
The little listener did not stay to
hear more With noiseless but flying
foet she made her way home, fully
alive to the horror of ker situation.
Something must be done, and at ouce.
With the power of desperation she
was determined to baffle the plotters ;
and one small ray of light dawned
upon the girl's mind and stood out
dear and bright!
When Franks entered his cabin
Marah was busy cleaning up the room.
She looked up aud said, curele-sly :
"I am glad you bave come, father
Maggie Feutris has asked me te
the day with her so often that I think
I'll go to-day."
He looked at her searohingly.
"I thought yoa did not itira for
these people uow ?"
"I shall always care for Maggie and
Maston—they were, so kind to me
while an inmate of their father's house.
But it don't matter, if you object to
my going."
"Oh, I don't care, girl; go if you
want to, but be sure to b* home beloro
night."
Had Franks watched her as she left
the room he would have soon the look
lof pleasure that swept, over her face.
•' When she came in the" room again she
| was neatly, even elegant'y attired in
! the mourning garment- prepared f»W
! the iuneiiil ol Mr*.
: | caught her hat ui.d carelessly swung
! it by its string ar>un > ouce oi twice,
; then, with a "good-' ye, father,' wat
■ j gone.
» the paused Alien he leadicd
' large stejsat tho .rout eutruuc ie.td
J ing to the Hall, put her hand Sauoath
, j thetu aud drew out a small bundle 1
Soon tile child was ringing tho L>oc
t r*B door been. Mrs. Fentris an*wui- i
it herself She was giad to nee Ma- t
rah and oft'sred to send one of the ser i
•ants for Jtlaggie, who was spending i
the ddy with a schoolmate. But Ma- i
iah only wished to see Maston. i
"You wdl find him in the green
house, desr, busy over his flowers."
So'Marah sought him there; and i
amidst the almost overpowering per
] fuuies, told to his astonished ear a
wild determination of hor's, which all
his power of persuasion bad not suffi
o en': strength to change !
. Six miles below Wycoff is a small
station. A beautiful sandy
luge 4§elf is far from being attractive,
cabins are dingy and and
the inhabitants lazy and ignorant.
; Like Wycoff, it is situated on thebeau
' tiful river N- .
I)own this rivsr, on the evening in
which Marah left Franks' cabin for
Doctor Fentiis' house, a boat contain
ing two psrsong—a boy and a girl—
was *een to. glide. When they reach
ed the laud'iig the boy made his boat
fast, aud theu, turning around, took
his companion's hand in his, and said,
'earnestly and sadiy :
"Oh! Maiuh, child! what will be
come of you now ?"
"liod will ta!e oure bf me, Maston.
Don't forget anything I have told you,
and make lather thaik I spent tho
aight v» ith you all In the morning
you can send my farewell note to him.
Don't let any one see it; there is a
secret in it which I cannot even tell
you—a fearful secret of murder and
death ! Now I must thank you, dear,
good Maston!"
* "I liuve done nothing, Marah, de
serving of thanks; rather, I may
prove the innou*nt oause o£- your de
struction and death. Oh, Marah, g>
with me back ; it is not yet too late.
, I ought not to have yielded to you at
' first!"
"Hush, Maston ; you pain me. No
harm will come to me."
, "But, Marah, you don't know. You
do not think of the many, many evils
, which may fall upon you."
"They cannot be more bitter than
, those I have already been crushed be
. neuth ; and besides, I have learned to
, 'suffer aud be strong.' "
"You have no money, Marak. You
start almost penniless."
, "Not penniless, Maston, thanks to
. your kiudness."
[ Long he talked, but she was still
I; resolute ;so at lust he said :
"Come, Marah, I hear the distant
, echo of the train. I must accompany
you to the stution."
There were several others waiting to
tij.ke the curs also, but they did not
| seem to take any notice of the child
t alter the first glance. When the lo
comotive came dashing up there was
a solemn leave-taking between the
r qfeildren. Ma -ton seated lier in the
ci-ach, put her ticket in her hand, and
j then whispered:
a "Write to mo some time. I will see
you again if I live. Good-bye, dar
lihgMaiali!" aud he fondly kissed
the wet, upturned lace. Then, with
x tear-dimmed eyes, he watched the
u i irou-horse bound along until it was
| *ovt in a bend of the road
Marah glanced around her, looking
£ ! shyly at the new, btraflge faces, and
l# | wondering what the eominvr day would
0 bring h>r. Thou she looked at her
ticket; it was good us far as VVaburn,
+ and with a prayer thH it might prove
e a haven ol rest to her weary feet, sho
g- sank into uneasy slumber.
[CONTINDED .BEXT WRKK.]
S
Lily Uurker in a recent work'gives
h ideal «>: a model boy, as follows*
1. i ciutd make a model boy, I'll teD
j 4 w hat he should be ike. Ho
( -nould lovo coid water, aud hate a lie.
NUMBER 4
HP a 6uld be frank and unsuspicious,
as becomes a noble, trusting nature,
uiyl yet lie should be neither silly nor
soft, lie should have plenty of ma*
nias. lie should have an appetite like
a wolk, for I would wifh him to be
tall and strong; must not be a
bit greedy. He should not be asham
ed of l«rv inland reverencing all that
is good and holy and pure, but with
nothing of the mollycoddle about him.
Fie should have a fine, sweet temper,
yet he should be as the Yankee song
•says, 'an orkered man in 1 a row,' and
lie should know how to take care of
himself with his fists.*'
The public mind was prepared to
hear a verdict of not guilty rendered
in a case where the accused was so
closely connected with ihe President
of the United States as to be one of
his family. The will of the President,
so powerful to make or to pull down
was sufficient suggestion to the Judge
„© frame a charge fruitful of indulgent
pretexts for a willing jury to lean to
the side of mercy. It has been con
ceded for some time past that Judge
Dillon held the fate of the accused in
his own hands, and that his instruc
tions would determine the question of
his freedom or his incarceration.
Too little of that charge has corns
t > us to authorizo censure or criticism.
Only one single sentence was tele
graphed, hut that seems to furnish a
key to the auimus of the whole charge.
The Judge reminded the jury "that
the government owed a duty to its cit
izens as well as to the revenue, and
that it was in the province of the jury
to acquit as well as convict." These
are truisms as plain to the apprehen
sion of the jury ae to that of the
Judge. The emphasis with which
they were annouuced amounts almost
to an instruction to acquit. The con
tra-position of the duty to citizens and
the revenue puts the latter in con
temptuous insignificance when the
rights of the private secretary are
weighed againet the public interests.
It was not so when Avery, Joyce, Mc-
Donald and McKee were pnt on trial.'*
Then the course of justice seemed to
have been run with fearful impartial
ity. And from the testimony adduced
against Babcock a dispassionate publio
opinion will be very apt te assign him
to the same culpability as those who
were indisputably proved his confede
rates in crime. Babcock comes out of
the ordeal a free man but by no means
an unscorched one. —[Ral. News.
A Romance in Beal Life.
The salary of the French President,
MacMahon, amounts in all to S2OC,-
000—578,000 of which is given to de
fray the expense of receptions, at
which his wife presides with much
grace and dignity. The "way she at
tained her present position i« at once
romantic and singular. While she
was a school-girl in the female semi
, nary at 1 imogen, France, a fire broke
out and spread so rapidly that the in
t mates could scarcely make their ee
capo. Suddenly there was a cry that
, one little girl had been left behind*
. and whilo the horrified spectators were*
shuddering over her fate, a tall, pale
, girl, with disheveled blonde hair and
11 flowing night-dress, rushed through
■ the crowd, crying, "I will sare heir
f dashed iuto the door-way and bore the
child out safely in her arms in the
s 1 midst of cracking timber and falling
j' masonry. For this brave deed King
Louis Philippe gav# the girl a gold
medal, and a Captain of the Franclf
army, who had witnessed the heroic
s rescue, begged an introduction. The
; Captain is now President MacMahon,
[I and tho brave girl is his wife.
0 Piety is the foundation of all the
■' \ virtues.