Shi SHirri Hcportcr,
VOLUME V.
THg REPORTER
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4 'business CARDS.
Jean 1). Uaxuoiid. JleiiY A. Axtho»y
JOHN D HAMMOND & CO.
Saddle, Harness, Trunk, 'and
Collar Manufacturers,
Wholesale and Retail,
Ml West BaltirAortf Street, (Opposite the
JioXaw House",)
BALTIMORE.
' JL E. Best, of N. C.,
with
HENRY SONNEBORN & CO.,
Wholesale Clothiers,
ft 7 W. Baltimore street, corner of
Liberty,
BALTIMORE.
H. Sonneborn, / B, Blituline.
Kov. l-ten.
j, f. Carlin, D. C. Fultou
J. F. Bradenbnugh,
OARLIN & FULTON,
Importers of
Jfordvrare, Cutlery, Guns, &c.,
• * >Ko. 21) TSottth Howard street,
BALTIMORE,
fpocial attention given to orders,
X«v. l-6m.
WLTFGO ELLETT & CRUMP.
Dealers in
lotts, Shoes, Trunks &c.,
• I*oß MAIN .STREET
Richmond Va.
North Carolina trade a speciality
price alguaran toed as low as any House
North or Seuth.
June 10 -y.
J, E GILMEtf . 7
WUUtale and Retail Dealert in
General merchandise, Dry
•••do, Notions Groceries, &c
Boots and Shoes a speciality.
Winston N* C.
J.l? l*th 1875, 1-y.
W. Jr. r. Rums, Jr. F. 11. Rum
- B- W. HILL,
WITH
WILSOK, BURNS k CO.
WtolMale Grocers and
Commission Merchants,
" ife B. levari Street, Cor. ef Lombard,
'• BALTIMORE.
 We keep eoustantly on hand a large and
wall MeervA stock of Gbocbkiks, suitable for
tke So*tL«ni and Western trade. We solicit
fOilpinntr of Country Prodccb, such as
t Mm, ftcih+rs, Ginseng, Bets wax, Wool,
l>ri«i Fr*ii, Ti*rs, Skins, Ax. Our facilities
lot d#lM Business are awoh as to warrant
t rtekiabe end prompt returns. All orders i
wiD have our prompt attention.
*it «>
WM. S. ROBERTSON,
WITH
->rjU|jrA.tKlNß & COTTRELL,
IITOBTSRS AND JOBBERS OF
sHardware, Cutlery, &c.
Aad*mmy GOODS, Bolting Cloth
fnin Packing and Belting,
;■, |*o7 MAIN STREET ;
A ,.l JPJCHMOND. VA
\jfm\lA. B.KyU, "" Sam'l P. Is elms,
&mm Jbflyioy, H. L. Duvall.
Wa. 8. HAMSEY, North Carolina.
* . ——
Dinsmore & Kyle,
WHOLESALE
\Qroeerti, And Commission
'f Merchants,
, |s6jit Pratt Street,
BALTIMORE, MD.
12-m.
—■ , , m*r- . —-==
Devoted to the Development of the Social and
DANBURY, N. 0., THURSDjif, MARCH 16, 1876.
( !
\
)
i
)
l
j/' Ma^o r ; k de ->
BY "FltlO."
CHAPTER Vlf.
The ride was almost a blank to Ma
rah. Not until one of the brakesmen
opened the oar door and sang out at
the top of his luniks, "Wsburn," was
she fully conscious of her surround
ings. She sat up with a 6tart, and
glanced quickly out of the window.
The night was still dark and a driz
i zling ruin had set in. She had no
I idoa of the time, but thought it could
not be far irorn daylight.
The train hud stopped and the pas
sengers were hurrying out. The shouts
! of the hotel porters, the screams of the
j news-boys and iruit-venders, and the
jostling of the crowd confused the
girl so much that she knew not"what
to do, but stood in helpless dispair
amid the perfect t-ea ol human heals-.
Only ftr a few moments was she thus.
Calling up all her will and courage,
she shook off tho hand of tho irnpor- i
tunate porter and pushed her way j
through the crowd which thronged the !
depot platform, until she stood at tho;
door marked "ladies' parlor." This j
she entered. Only one gas jet was i
but a cheerful firp burned ip '
the stove and a rocking-chair—though |
it was minus a back—was drawn up
bofore it. In this 6he seated herself ;
and began drying her rain-spriukled j
garments. Some one cqiuo in to mend ;
up the fire. He looked at the girl
wonderingly.
"How longjbefore tho eastern train
is due ?",;Bhe asked, in a voice which
did its beet to appear brave and indif
ferent.
"Not before eix, Miss."
"What time Is it now ?"
"Four, fifteen minutes."
"Then I will just remain here until
six. Be kind enough to bolt the door
alter you nnd aQu that none but iadiea
enter."
He left her, and drawing up a more ]
comfortable chair she sat down to plan, j
The inquiry in.regard to the e .stern \
train was but a hoax to mislead the :
man. She had only a few paltry pen- j
nies left; so she must stop here at this ;
place and find a home, if possible.
She arose, walked to the window,
and gftzed out at the now almost silent
city. The gleaming of the street
lamps here and there showed it to oe
a large place. Tall buildings rose ou
every side. "Surely," thought Ma 1
rah, ."among so many homes I may
find one!"
The hours dragged by, the rain com
ing down in torrents, and the child sat
alone and conn ad the bitter lesson ex
perience held before her—dark and
painful, hung with tho gloomy shad
ows caught from the rayless past!
At last the morning dawned. The
man came in and kindly replenished
the fire. One or two passers-by opened
the door, glanced in at Marah, and i
then went on. She ate the lunch |
which Maston had begged of Auut !
Millie, his mother's cook, for her. It
was not"a very bountiful supply, but
she ate it with a relish and was thank
ful for even that much. She smiled
6adly to herself as she put the last
mouthful to her lips and thought of
the difference between her life now,
and what it was when she passed this
very depot two years before with her
adopted parents!
The sun was just rising above the
house tops when she left the station
house and walked out in the city. The
man called after her that the train
would be due in a few minutes, but
she pretended not to hear and walked
rapidly forward.
She did not wish to remalh until the
cro\Vd had gathered.again ; ho shrank
from a repetition of last nghts an
noyances.
The rain had ceased, but -ie pave
rocent heavy showers. Only business
men aud the workmen we're out; the
fashionable had not yet left their pil
lows
Murah walked slowly along, gazing
at the immense and innumerable
buildings which stretched as for as the
eye could roach. Richer and poverty
confronted her on every side Here a
stately palatial home; and there,
crouching close in its very shadow, a
squallid miserable den of poverty and
want. Passers-by glanced at her cu
riously/ but unmindful of th»ir ill
bred stare she kept on, her face a per
fect study to those whose- hoarts were
not altogether insensible to the beau
tiful and pure.
Marah wandered on for hours, dead
to fatigue aod weariness ; but at last
sho'reached portion of tho city whore
tho buildings were not so thick. This
street was broad and wide, aud nent,
white houses stood on each side. If
she could only find a home in one of
thankful she would be !
She approached one and timidly rang
tho ball. It was answered by t light,
haired child, with large, blue oyes,
which opened still larger when M r »rah
asked:
"Does your'mother want to hire a
gir" ? Seo, please. 1 can do any
thing, and the^wages low."
The child departed, but soon re
turned with the answer that "they
never took white servants "
"It would be better to be dark,
then !" inurmered Marah, as she ap
proached the next door, and there
rang the bell again. She thought she
would bo more successful bore, for she
was told to walk i* and await the
pleasuro of the ' hen the
lady entered she gaaed in surprise at
Marah.
"You hardly seem a servant," she
said, as she took an inventory of the
girl's clothing and geneial appear
ance.
"I am one, though, n«verthele«B."
And Marah tried to put ou aa huiuhl
air befitting her calling.
"Lid you ever nurse any ? ever at
tend to small children ?"
"No, ma'am ; but I am sure I could
learn very soon.'
"Have you any reoommeudations
frooajyour last home ?"
"I have never been out before,
lady," and her voice trembled in spite
of herseli. •
"Ah!" and the lady el«iNtod her
eyebrows in tokeu of displeasure. "I
don't think you wouH su'tme. I make
it a point never to tuke a servant with
out recommendations in regard to her
honesty, etc. I have lost too many
silver spoons, and other such articles,
to be deceived again by an honest
looking face. As to your never being
out before, we won't discuss that as
you don't suit, fclore, Elemmings,
show this a child out!"
Marah arrse, and fixing her eyes
upou the lady's face, said in luouk hu
mil ty ;
"I haidly think we would suit, my
self Many thanks for the tithe you
have given we, for which I am greatly
indebted. Let uje wish-you a pleas
ant 'good-morning!'"
The lady looked alter the retreating
figure in undisguised astonishment •
then, remembering the haughty carri
age and the look she met in the mid-
night eyes of the stranger, murmured:
"Some pert Miss ; home, indeed ! The
idea is ridiculous—in that garb, too!"
Poor, little Marah ; how sanguine
she was in the morning of finding a
home, yet, as.the day waned and twi
light drew its sable folds around the
city she • was still upon the street,
homeless and alone ! The day had
been spent in vain. Weary with ro
peated denials, worn out with wander
ing, she sank on the pavement and
uphi dißpaur ul(l^hrigj^|
hud alike ded out; and the splendid
eyes, dewy with unshed tears, had a
pleading touching to see
Just across the street from where
she crouched stood a splendid man
sion. The light from its windows
beamed warm and bright. The cur
i tain hau not been drawn ; and as Ala
• rah watched tho light danco on the
I polished wall, a stroug impulse seemed
|to draw her to this home of wealth.
I She crept close to the steps, and looked
hungrily in.
A lady sat before the grate, with a
rosy baby her am.B. The child
held out its fingers for the lamp, and
crowed in baby glee. The mother
caught the little outstretched arms,
and covered the soft, pink palm with
kisses.
"Ah! she will know and under
stand, for God has given her such a
beautiful; she will feel for the moth-
I erless !" murmured Marah. So, with
out ringing, she opened tho door and
j noiselessly entered.
Tho room in which tke lady sat
| opened directly into the hall The
door was partly opened, but Marah
gave a low kuock to acquaint the lady
qf her prepuce. „
She did not even glance around, but
said in a sweet, low voice:
"Come in!"
Marah advanced close to the lady,
and stood just before her chair. Mrs.
Arnold arose quickly when she looked
up and saw the elegant looking little
figure in its deep-mourning garments.
"Have a chair," she said, placing
one for her. "Baby and I was so
busy we did not hear you ring; and I
suppose Albert is in the servants' hall
and did not *tt» nd the bell."
All this time Marah had not spoken-
She dared not laise her eyes. A flood
of humiliation swept over her when
she remembered she wan a beggar and
hud called to beg a mouthful of bread
and a shelter from the darkness of the
night.!
Th# lady she saw, though too wel]
bred to question her, was waiting for
her to make kuowu the cause of her
visit. She put her hands together and
worked them nervousbf; and Mrs.
Arnold saw that they were white and
delicate, and that the child was trem
bling violently.
"Lady —" Marah's voioe was low,
but full of concentrated power and as
sweet as the musical cadence ol the j
siren's ; "I am a beyrgar—an orphan, !
without home or friends. All day I
have wandered up and down your city,
begging for work; but not one of all
that I tried would take me. Night
came ou, and still 1 was hoxeless. .
Ah! lady, you cannot know the full
meaning of that bitter word, 'home- !
less,' iuless, like myself, you had felt
it Across the street I.saw your light. |
I was ready then to give up and die,
but it drew my steps to your door 1
looked in and saw you and your little
baby ; i saw how you loved and issed
it, and I said surely here is one who
will feel for the motherless! Lady, I
was once a* happy as your tiny babe
—my home as bright; now lam au
outcast! Where I now stand your
child may one day stand, and [dead,
as I now plead, for a home—a shelter
to keep her from the street! let uie
be your servant, your baby's nuiHe,
anything—only do not send me to
NUMBER 5
wander agaiu!"
ltui child's words liad been so rap
id, mid at had grown so vehe
ment, that Mrs. Arnold could not re
ply until she had finished and stood
[muting and breathless before her.
bhe did not pause to ask if Marahwas
an impostor; her jrery tone carried
truth and conviction to the heart of
her hearer. She put her arms tender
ly around thi girl, and said with fer
vor :
I tfi ! Q ? d ?* ty
• > .T •WB^-oTpYf.-rri. '3l would'*
no: turn a hungry bird from my door,
k anil shall not one of God's own crea
tures be still better cared for? You
i shall stay with me, for I have only
• Carrie and my husband to love !"
1 [CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.]
How Wauy Would be Left ?
A writer asks the following pungent
questions:
W hen the following classes are ta
ken out of our churches, how many
would be left ?
All who will not pay their debts.
All who are hypocritical.
All who are deceitful, and talk about
others behind their backs,
All who get into debt without a
prospect of paying the same.
All who are proud and scornful,
holding themselves above their fellow
men, and shun th'ose less fortunate
than, themselves.
I whu worship money more than
they do their Creator.
All who speculate on the ignoranoo
of others- t
All who are tattlers.
All who think more of a wicked
rich man than theyjdo of a pious poor
one. '
All who oppress the poor.
All who make long prayers for tho
suke of being heard and seen of men.
All who are vain and self-conceited.
When tßege, and a good many oth
( era that could be mentioned, are taken
out, the church will be left without a
member. The religion of Jesus does
not have any of the above defects. It
. makes the true convert cheerful, hope
| fui and charitable; disposed to visit
the widow and orphan, and to keep
unspotted from the world. It does*
not make one proud or scornful, hut f
on the contrary, makes one desirous of
doing good, to be meek and humble,
and to be kind to all, aa opportunity
may offer. Oh ! that we had less pre
tension in our churches, and more
genuine Christianity.
Drinking for Effects.
He said he didn't care anything
about liquor only for the effects. Ho
never liked the taste oi it; it always
made him "gag" to drink it, and he
made an awful face as he took it down.
But it was the effects that he was af
ter. He was a nice young man when
we first heard him say that. He had
health, good looks, and a respectable
position in society. The only percep
tible effects of his potations then was
' the heightened color in his oheeks, in
creased brilliancy of his eyes, and vi
i vacity in conversation. He was gen
! erous and liberal with his money, too,
and had a host of friends, Well, he
1 kept on drinking for the effects, and
he got thorn, as every ,man will who
keeps at it long enough- Thaftast
time we saw him he was that pitiable
object, a human wreok. He was stand
ing at a bar pleading for a drink on
time, as lti» trembling fingers were un
able to find even a solitary nickel in
the pockets of his ragged apparel.
Ho had 'kept on "gagging'* over his
whmky, and drinking for the eflfeota
until he hadn't any effects left except
those painfully, apparent ones, pover
ty, disease, privation aud v&nished re
spectability. Verily, he got the effects.
——tlrisii World,