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THE CARROEE COUNTY TIMES.
VOL. I.
Cbe Carroll Coanln times,
u
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The above terms w ill be strictly adhered to.
“Hot assde a liberal per ccntage for advertising.
Keep yourself unceasingly before the public ; and
it matters not wlmt business you are engaged in,
lor, if intelligently and industriously pursued, a
fortune will be the result— Hants' Merchants' May'
atine.
" After I began to advertise my Iron ware free
ly, business increased with amazing lapidity. For
ten years past I have spent £3o,tiou yearly to keep
my superior ware* before the public. Had I been
thaidhi advertising, I never should have possess,
ed my fortune of £350,000," —McLeod Helton llir.
mimjton.
Advertising like Midas’ touch, turns everything
to gold, by it you: daring men draw inillious to
their cotters.”— Stuurt Clay.
•• \\ hat audacity is to ove, and boldness to war,
the skillful use of printer’s ink, is to success in
bu-iness "—Beecher.
“Without the aid of advertisements I should
hive done nothing in my speculations I have
the most complete faith in printer's ink.” Adver
tise is tlie “ royal road to business.” — Barnaul.
PKolmiOKAl & BUSINESS CARDS.
Card# under this head will be inserted at one
dollar per line, per annum. ... , . ,
No curds will lie taken for this department, at
the above rates, for a less period than one year.
GKO. W AUSTIN
Attorney at Law,
Carrollton, Georgia.
GEO. W. MKKRELL,
Attorney at Law,
Carrollton, Ga.
J. II LA LOCK,
Attorney at Law,
Carrollton, Georgia.
Special attention paid to all law matters.
Hit. W. W. FITTS,
Physician and Surgeon,
Carrollton. Georgia.
IS. D. TUOMASSON,
Attorney at Law,
Carrollton, Georgia.
T- C. BARNES,
Gun Smith and Repairer,
Carrollton, Georgia.
J. 0. MULLENNIX,
liool and Shoe maker,
Carrollton. Georgia.
A. ROBERSON,
Carpenter and Joiner,
Carrollton, Georgia.
All kinds of Carpenters work done at
*hort notice. Patronage solicited.
w - M. REYNOLDS’ HOTEL,
Newnan, Georgia.
" ■ M. Reynolds, Owner and Proprietor.
r always supplied with the best the mar*
affords. Hoard as cheap as any whera
' !1 Georgia. Board Two Dollars j>er Day.
REESE'S SCHOOL,
Carrollton, Ga., 1872,
tuition for Forty Weeks, from sl4 to $42.
*T»ard ; from sl2 to sls per month.
M l» e| is 2d Monday in January next.
Terms one half in advance.
A. C. REESE, A. M., Principal,
t o' For Board apply to Dr. 1. N. Cheney,
&D '* H. Scogin, Esq.
1 ! |° 8 - Chandler, Joseph L. Cobb.
CHANDLER & COBB,
Attorneys at Law,
Carrollton, Georgia.
practice in the Superior Courts of the
a ' ,,l poo«a and Rome Circuits. Special at
le,it*on given to all business connected with
Administration of Estates, and the col
!^ )n °* claims. Office in the Court House.
Medical card.
Dr.. 1. N. CHENEY,
lP!, pectfully informs the citizehß of Carroll,
llli ' ’‘(ljacent counties, that he is permanently
located at Carrollton, for the purpose of Prac
|‘ UI1 g Medicine. He gives social attention
o ail chronic diseases of Females. He re
aii<n '"‘ Ui ß s to His Iriendsfor past patronage,
mpes, by close attention to the proses
lo merit the same,
A- iY Ala,, Kailmid
j J ‘ave*Nk 3 45PM*
Arr ives « 7 00 a J*
i Connect* at liriffin with Macon and Western R.
The War-Horse.
JOB, xxxix.
BY W IT. LI AM FISHER.
Behold the proud war-horse! he hears with
delight,
The sound of the squadrons that tokens the
fight;
With his neck clothed in thunder, his head
reared on high,
As wide over the field gleams the flash of his
eye.
Impatient he snorts, as the banners he sees:
His mane o’er his shoulders stream wild in
the breeze :
He views the stern combat regardless of fear,
The shouting of hosts or the gleam of the
spear.
,I’he quiver may rattle, he heeds not the sound;
He pawetli the valley, he jqmrneth the ground;
The trumpets loud clangor he hears from alar,
lie snutteth the battle and rusheth so war.
The strength of the rider can scarcely re
strain
His fierceness and rage by the curb aud the
rein :
Ilis eye with the fire of the warrior is lit,
And proudly he flings the white foam from
his bit.
Ilis rein is now slackened, ho springs with
. delight;
Like the sweep of the whirlwind he speeds to
the fight :
He leaps o’er the fallen, o’erturned in his
wrath ;
lie heeds not the spears that are set in his
path.
The lances are shivered, and broken the bow,
As madly he bursts on the ranks of the foe :
With the speed of the tempest he scours o’er
’ the plain,
And his hoofs are dyed red with the blood of
the slain.
His nostrils are spread, there’s a cloud from
his breath,
As he bears his fierce rider through carnage
and death :
The sword may wave round him, he feels no
alarms,
But sweeps o’er the field like the spirit of
storms.
The foemen affrighted, before him have fled,
But still pursues them o’e heaps of the dead;
They try their swift flight, but in terror they
hear
The sound of his hoofs bringing death on the
rear.
With the force of the torrent he thunders
along,
And the shriek of despair rises wild from the
throng:
JSiill onward he foams through the midst of
the crowd,
As the thunder-bolt burns in its wrath from
the cloud.
llncynis, 1842.
Befriending Youug People.
When John Wesley saw a young
man in danger ot falling into the
snare of evil associates, he did not
watch him sharply at a distance, and
speak of his shortcomings to othes,
predicting that he was “on the high
road to ruin.”
He invited him to his table, and by
a genial, affable manner, sought to
give him good subjects for thought, or
hints for conduct. Advice thus hos
pitiably enforced was very impressive.
He would draw out a young man in
conversation, and learn what studies
he was most proficient in, which were
essential to his success, and then assist
him to acquire the mastery of them.
Another most valuable way aiding
a young man whom social danger
threatened, was to make him acquaint
ed with Avell disposed, religious young
men, who would lead them into good
paths. Then he watched over their
future career with a father’s interests
and tenderness. Then in a very sim
ple manner he accomplished a vast
amount of good, besides preventing a
world of evil.
The Christian duty of hospitality is
too much neglected by Christians.
They loose by inhoSpitaiity many pre
cious opportunites of doing goo£.
There is nothing that endears the
heart of the voting and of the stranger
more than a warm home welcome
from those on whom they have no claim.
It opens the heart's door wide to re
ceive missions of good and fills the
memory with grateful remembrances.
“That woman is a Christian if ever
there was one,” said a poor painter
boy to me about a kind old lady who
had befriended him in his loneliness
and poverty. She had given him
many a meal when hungry, or called
him in her pleasant doorway to receive
a pocketfull of cakes, and once when
sick, had taken him home and nursed
him with a mother's tenderness. The
boy is a man now, but the memory of
those lttle kindnesses will never lade
from his heart
If you wish to be good to the young,
prove yourself, indeed, a generous iov
ing friend to them.
C
Let paienls make every possible
effort to have their- children go to
sleep in a pleasant humor. Never
scold or give lectures, or in any way
wound a chlds’s feelings as it goes to
bed. Let all banish business and
worldly care at bed time, and let sleep
come tn a mind at peace with God and
all the world
A gid that has lost her beau
may as well hang up her fiddle.
CARROLLTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, JANUARY 12, 1872.
“Call a Man.’’
Any one who is willing to try a
laugh, will do well to read on.
John Jackson was a very industri
ous, hard working man, of twenty
three years. Being the eldest child,
and the only son, he had always re
mained at home, assisting his hither
upon the farm. John was much re
spected by every one in the neighbor
hood, and many a blight-eyed girl
had secretly thought she would like
to change her name to Mrs. John
Jackson. But" John was no “ludie’s
man.” The fact was John was very
bashful. lie would rather hoe pota
toes all day than undergo the cere
mony of an introduction to a young
lady. Not that John disliked the
dear creatures—far from it. We be
lieve that he, in common with all
bashful, well-meaning men, entertain
ed the very highest respect and ad
miration for them. And this no
doubt was the principal cause of his
bashfullness. He felt that they were
superior beings, and that he was un
worthy to associate with them upon
terms of equality. But we cannot
stop to moralize.
Nancy Clark was the daughter of a
respectable tarmer, whose lands ad
joined the Jackson farm. Nancy was
a pretty saucy little wench, and she
liked John Jackson. When they were
children they attended the same
school, and as he was a few years her
senior was usually her champion in
the childish disputes that arose, and
her companion in going and return
ing. At last John became so much of
a young man as to be kept from
school, as she had been in past years.
John discovered, too, that he had
been growing in stature, and it seem
ed as if he had been growing out of
shape. Ilis feet and legs appeared
very awkwark ; he didn’t know what
to do with his hands; his face pained
him, and taken all in all, he was in
clined to think that he was not more
than half put together.
Now the truth was John Jackson
was really a fine looking young man,
and nothing but his admiration of
Nancy could have suggested any such
foolish thoughts about himself.
As the novelists, say it was a love
ly day in August. The heavens were
clear, serene and beautiful, the trees
were laden with golden fruit, and the
beautiful birds twittered their songs
of love in the branches. Earth—
(there, we’ve slid down to earth once
more; such lofty heights, they make
our head dizzy.) We were about to
say that “earth had yielded her boun
tiful harvest of a year’s grass, and
clover, and honey-suckles, which the
noble yeomanry of Chesterville had
garnered within their storehouses”—
hut upon second thought concluded
to word it thus: “ The farmers of
Chesterville were done haying.”
John Jackson’s sister had a quilting
that afternoon. Ilis father had gone
to “Keith’s Mill” to get some wheat
ground, and John was left to repair
some tolls to be ready on the morrow
to commence mowing the meadow
grass. Suddenly it occured to John
that if he remained about the house
in the afternoon, he would be called
in at tea time and required to do the
honors of the table. To avoid this,
he quietly shouldered his scythe and
stole away to the meadow, half a mile
distant, fully resolved that he would
not leave there until it was so dark
that he could not see to mow, and
thus avoid seeing the girls.
The meadow was surrounded on all
sides by a thick forest, which effectu
ally shut out what little breeze there
might be stirring. The sun poured
its rays as though the little meadow
was the focus point where the heat
was concentrated. John mowed and
sweat—sweat and mowed, until he
was obliged to sit down and cool off.
Then it occurred to John that if he
took off his pants he might be more
comfortable. There could be no im
propriety in it as he was entirely con
cealed from observation and there was
not the slightest reason to suppose
that he could be seen by any person.
So John stripped off, and with no
cover save his linen—commonly call
ed shirt—he resumed his work. lie
was just congratulating himself upon
the good time he had haying, and the
lucky escape he had made from meet
ing the girls, when he chanced to dis
turb a huge black snake, a genuine
twister, with a white ring around his
neck,
John was no coward, but he was
mortally afraid of a snake. “Self
preservation” was the first “passage”
that flashed upon John’s mind, and
“ legs take care of the body ” was the
next. Dropping his scythe and spin
ning round like a top, he was ready
to strike a 2:40 gait, when at that mo
ment the snake was near enough to
hook his crooked teeth into John’s
shirt, just above tho hem. With a
tremendous spring, he started off with
the speed of a locomotive. His first
jump took the snake clear from the
ground, and as John stole a hasty
glance over his shoulder he was hor
rified to find the reptile securely fast
lened to the extremity of his garment;
while the speed with which he rushed
forward kept the serpent at an angle
of ninety degrees with his body.
Here was a quandary. It he stop
ped tlie snake would coil about his
body and squeeze him to death ; if he
continued the race he'd soou fall from
sheer exhaustion. On he flew, scarce
daring to think how his dreadful race
would end. Instinctively he had ta
ken the direction of home, when a
feeling of security came over him.—
Suddenly flashed across his mind the
true state of affairs—his father gone
—the quilting—and worst of all, the
girls ! This new horror sent the
blood back curdling about his neck,
and he came to a dead halt. The
next moment he felt the body of the
cold clammy monster in contact with
his bare legs his tail creeping around
them in a sort of an oozing way, as
though his snakeship only meditated
a little fun, bv wav of tickling John
upon the knees.
This was too much for human en
durance. With a yell, such as a man
never utters save when in mortal ter
ror, poor John again set forward at
break neck pace, and once more had
the pleasure of seeing the snake re
sume his horizontal position, some
what after the fashion of a commet.
On he flew! John forgot the quilt
ing, forgot the girls, forgot everything
but the snake.
His active exercise (he paid particu
lar attention to his running,) together
with the excessive heat, had brought
on the nose bleed, and as he ran, ears
erect and head thrown back, his chin,
throat and shirt-bosom were stained
with the flowing stream.
His first wild shriek had startled the
quilters, and fourth they rushed, won
dering if some mad Indian was not
prowling about. By this time John
was within a few rods of the barn;
still running at the top of his speed,
his head turned so that he could keep
one eye on the snake, and with the
other observe what course he must
take. The friendly barn concealed
him from the sight of the girls. He
knew that they were in the yard, hav
ing caught a glimpse of them as they
rushed from the house. A few more
bounds and he would be in theirmidst.
For a moment modesty overcame fear
and he once more halted. The snake,
evidently pleased with his rapid trans
portation, manifested his gratitude by
attempting to enfold the legs of our
hero within his embrace
With an explosive “ouch /” and
urged forward by “circumstances over
which he had no control,” poor John
bounded on. The next moment he
was in full view of the girls, and as
he turned the corner of the barn, the
snake came round with a whiz some
thing after the fashion of a coach whip.
Having reached the barn-yard, to
his dismay he found the bars up : but
time was too precious to be wasted in
letting down bars. Gathering all his
strength, he bounded into the air—
snake ditto—and as he alighted on
the other side, his snakeship’s tail
cracked across the upper bar snap
ping like an India cracker.
Again John set forward, now utter
ly regardless of the presence of the
girls, for the extra tick of the snake’s
tail as lie leaped the bars, bauished all
the bashfulness and modesty, and
again he had the pleasure of finding
the snake in a straight line, drawing
steadily at the hem of his solitary gar
ment.
The house now became the centre
‘of attraction, and around it he revol
ved with the speed of thought. Four
times in each revolution as he turned
the corner, his snakeship came round
with a whiz which was quite refresh
ing.
While dascribing the third circle,
as he came near the group of wonder
struck girls without removing mg gaze
from the snake he managed to cry out:
“ CALI, a max ! ”
The next moment he wished out of
sight, and, as quick as thought, reap
peared on the other side of the house—
“ CALT A MAX.”
And away he whirled again, turn,
ing the corner so rapidly that the
whiz of the snake sounded half-way
between a whistle and the repeated
pronunciation of a double-e.
Before either of the girls had stir
red from their tracks, he had perform
ed another revolution—
“call a kax!
Away he flew, but his strength was
rapidly failing. Nancy Clark was the
first to rcover her presence of mind,
and seizing a hoop-pole, she took her
station near the corner of the house, :
and as John reappeared, she brought ;
it down upon the snake with such a
lorce that it broke his back and his
hold upon John’s nether garment at
the same time.
John rushed into the house and to his
room, and at tea-time appeared in his
best Sunday suit, but little the worse
for the race, aud to all appearance
cured of bashfulness. That night he
walked home with Nancy Clark.
The New Year they were married, and
now. when John feels inclined to laugh
at his wife’s hoop, or any other peeu
liarity, she has only to say “Call a
man,” when he instantly sobers down.
——
Knocking Out the Prjps.
BY REV. 11. F. wood.
For several days past I have been
watching at intervals, with much in
terest, the operations ot a company of
workmen who were building a granite
arch.
First they erected a wooden frame
work wheih was supported by numer
ous props and upon which the arch
rested while in course of construction.
When it was completed and the key
stone placed, the. workmen commenc
ed knocking out the props, and went
on removing one after another till they
were all taken away, and the arch was
left to stand in its own strength alone, j
And I was told that the arch would j
never have been firm and strong, had
not those props been removed, thus
allowing it to become so by thepresure
of its own weight. Avery good illus- j
tration, thought I, of the manner in
which a strong, healthy, Christian
character is built up. When we are I
young and weak in Christian experi- |
ence, God, for wise reasons, no doubt, !
allows us to have certain props.
Instead of centering all our affections
on Him who is “altogether lovely,”
and looking to him alone for sympa
thy, and support, perhaps we idolize
some dear friend, and trust too much
to human sympathy. But by and by
death comes and removes that friend.
That prop is taken away. And though
our hearts may bleed for a time, we
really become stronger from the ex
perience.
Instead of laying up our treasures
in Heaven, we may seek to amass the
wealth of this world, and for a time
suceed. But ere long it is consumed
by the devouring element, or sw r ept
away by the raging flood, aud so out
goes another prop.
Perchance we fix our eye upon some
dizzy height of worldly fame, and we
strain every nerve to reach it. But in
an unexpected moment, some rival
gets the “inside track” and again we
are disappointed. Aud thus kind
Providence goes on knocking out prop
after prop, till all, whatever they may
be, are taken away, and with a firm
Christain manhood, such as continued
prosperity and earthly props could
never have built up, we are enabled to
stand in the strength of God alone.
And by these experiences, though of
ten bitter aud hard to be borne, we
become weaned from earth, our affec
tions are centered on Heaven aud
those things which perish not with
the using, till at length we grow' to the
full statue of perfect men and women
in Christ Jesus.
Covering up the Scar.
A religious exchange has the following :
Wlieu an eminent painter was re
quested to paint Alexander the Great,
so as to give a perfect likeness of the
Macedonian conqueror, he felt a dif
ficulty. Alexander in his wars, had
been struck by a sword, and across his
forehead was an immense scar. The
painter said : “If I retain the scar, it
will be an offense to the admirers of
the monarch, and if I omit, it will fail
to be. a perfect likeness—what shall I
do ? ” He hit upon a happy expedient;
he represented the Emperor leaning
upon his elbow, with his forefinger
upon his brow, accidently as it seem
ed covering the scar upon his fore
head. Might we not represent each
other with the finger of charity upon
the scar, instead of representing the
scar deeper and blacker than it actual
ly is ? Might not Christians learn
from heathenism a lesson of charity,
of human kindness and love.
The Sacuedness of Makkiage.*—
For the man and woman who purely
and truly love each other, and guided
by the law of justice, marriage is not
a state of bondage. Indeed, it is
only when they become by this out ward
acknowledgment publicly avowed lov
ers, that freedom is realized by them
in its fullsignilicance. Thereafter they
can be openly devoted to each other’s
interests, and avowedly chosen and
intimate friends. Together they can
plan life’s battle, and enter upon the
path of progress that ends not with
life’s eventide. Together they causeek
the charmed avenue of culture, and,
strengthened by each other, can brave
the world’s frown in the rugged but
heaven-lit path of reform. Home
with all that is dearest in the sacred
name, is their peaceful and cherished
retreat within whose sanctuary bloom
the virtues that make it a temple of
beneficence.
Tried and True.
A TRUE STORY OF CALIFORNIA. LIFE.
In the year 1851, there were among
the early Amenican settlers of Califor
nia two brothers named Thompson,
who both having conle thither from
the Eastern States at the begining of
the gold excitement three years before,
and labored cojoiutly for tile more
generous favors of fortune, without
commensurate result, decided at last
to seperate foi a time; the one to go
to the mines and work for the fra
ternal partnersip, while the other re
mained in the city and improved such
chances as ordinary business should
offer. Bv such an arrangement, two
promising fields would be worked at
once, and its wisdom was equally ob
vious to both young men; but when it j
came to the question ot which should
assume the hardships and perils of a
miner’s life, neither exhibited an alac
rity to name himself for the adventure.
To decide this deliteate point they
drew lots, by which formula of fate
the elder Thompson was doomed to
become the miner, and accordingly
procured an outfit and prepared to
I leave the city. Before taking the lat
ter step, how ever, the miner elect
chose to bring a little romance of his
California life to a climax by w'edding
a young Eastern woman, who, like
himself, had left home to woo fortune
on the Pacific coast, and although he
could not take her with him into the w ild
comfortless life of the mines, the satis
faction of feeling that he had at least
secured her for himself, and had a be
loved brother in whose care to leave
.her gave him more courage and inspi
ration for his departure than might
have been possible to him as a bachelor.
Wedded he was, and after the honey
moon of heroic brevity, be consigned
liis bride to the protection of his bro
ther, and bravely marched away with
pick and shovel to the gold fields of
the North. Eager as he naturally was
to dig his prize from the earth and
hasten back to the prize left behind,
he was yet firmly resolved to deny
himself, wife, brother and home, until
he could indeed be the bearer of some
share of wealth. So when his first es
say in the mines did not prove wholly
satisfactory, he went sturdily onward
into the Indian country, and amongst
the red men added hunting and trap
ping to Ins mining pursuits. Thence
still moving still further northward
he reached Fraser river when the ex
citement about the auriferous yield of
that locality was at its height, and
there succeeded in digging no less
than two hundred ounces ot the pre
cious dust, which he at once eerit
home to his wife and brother in San
Francisco,
From then he had thus far heard
nothing on his travels, for it had been
agreed that they should not write un
til he should be in some place reached
by regular mails; but now he was impa
tient to learn how they regarded his pres
ent, and felt sure that they would de
vise some means of forwarding their
written communication. The. feeling
was invain, however; no letter came,
and affter months of waiting, the final
ly indignant Thompson wrote to a
friend in San Francisco with inquiries
respecting the silent ones. The an
swer came that they had disappeared
from the city together, having appar
ently in their possission a considerable
sum of money, obtained no one knew
exactly how. The miner of course
knew whence the money came; but
such inteligence of its seeming effect
upon those whom he had held dearest
in the world appealed to his apprehen
sion in a most sinister sense. lie be
lieve! that he was douhlv betraved;
that his wife and brother had baselv
and heartlessly practiced the blackest
treachery against him, finally using the
gold he had sent to help them beyond :
his reach. Heartbroken and desper
ate the poor fellow th >ught no more
of goodly fortune for himself, but car
ed only for such wandering wild adven
ture, and savagery, as should divert
him from all retrospective and tender
thoughts.
He joined an expedition to the
Great Slave Lake, as it ifc called, and
remained m the wilderness beyond
reach of mail or messenger for several
years. Returning finally to Victoria,
to Fraser river, he went with* another
expedition to Idaho, and there and in
Montanna was lost until 1866. From
the latter year uutil 1868 he was
a resident of Salt Lake City, go
ing from thence to the once famous
White Fine mines of Nevada, about
eighteen months ago. Fortune smiled
not upon his generally listless efforts;
he had a life of comfortless vagabond
age, and the twenty years of his ab
sence trom San Francisco wrought
such lines in his face and whiteness in
his hair as forty happier ones could
not have produced. Some two weeks
ago the broken, hopeless and embit
tered man, visited a mining camp not
far disiant from tho town of Eureka,
Nevada, for the purpose of joining a
company fitting out a trip to Arazona,
and there says the Eureka Sentiual,
telling his story, he was fated to be do
livdred at last from the delusion of
twenry miserable years. In tho ex
pedition preparing for Arizona waa
another man Thompson, who, neither
recognizing at first, proved to be no
other than our miner’s recreant broth
er. Wheu the poor vagabond discover
ed this, despite his wrongs, he fell upon
his broter’s neck and cried like a child;
and not ouly did that brother receive
and return the caress without shame,
but he took the eariiat opportunity to
reprove the other for leaving his wife
and brother to suppose for nearly a
score of years that he was dead.
The gold was received, but without
address, or a line to tell whether it
came as a living man’s gill or a dead
man’s legacy. No letter from the mi
ner had ever reached wife or brother,
though they had sent one to him.
The wife had felt at last obliged td
conclude that her husband was dead;
the gold he sent her had been his dy
ing gift, and with the money she
bouught a valuable farm near San
Jose, where, wearing the weeds of
widowhood, she still lives. As for
the brother, he spent portions of the
last fifteen years in pursuit of some
trace of the miner, hoping at least to
find his grave and sanctify it with a
fraternal tear, but now tliatjhe actual
ly saw the living man before him
nothing was left for him but a rushing
journey to a certain valley farm near
San Jose, where the best, truest, and
staunchest, would all at once become
the most surprised and happiest little
woman in the world. “Ere this,” con
cludes the story, “there has beeu h
meeting.” The decline of life will
pass in ease, comfort and happiuesfi
’for a man, who for twenty years be
lieved himself the victim of w oman’s
perfidy.
From the Clayton Baanor.
Local Papers.
An exchange aptly and truthfully
says of the local papers: “They en
hance the value of property; they call
attention to locality; they benefit par
ticularly merchants and real estate
owners thrice the amount yearly they
pay for their support. There is noth
ing that would do a town more harm,
than to be without a newspaper.
You need not think the publisher of a
newspaper can ran it for your benefit,
and pay the expenses out of his own
pocket. Give your own paper a good
advertising patronage and respectable
list, and you rnay have such a paper
as you wish.”
The above is literally true, and wa
call the attention of the merchants,
bueineesß men and real esrate owners
of Jonesboro, to the truths it contains.
They are uttered by an old and expe
rienced newspaper publisher. A well
conducted local newspaper does more
to enhance the value of property, and
otherwise improve a town, than any
other agency. It labors for the bene,
fiit of a town, and as a matter of
course, must derive its support mainly
from the merchants, business men and
real estate owners of the town where it
is published. Just in proportion as
they patronize and sustain it, will tho
area of its usefulness be extended, and
the town benefited. In this connec
tion, we would respectfully ask, what
are the merchants and business men
of Jonesboro doing for the Times?
Some of them are patronizing us to
the extent of their ability, while others
are not represented in our columns.
Out of over twenty business houses,
we have the advertisements of only
some four or five. We hope our friends
will wake up and advertise liberally.
Make your business known and make
a noise in the world. Most country
papers that we pick up are filled with
flaming advertisements from the local
merchants—who contract for yearly
space to the amount of SSO, $75 or
SIOO. Can’t all our Jonesboro mer
chants be induced to advertise liberal
ly? AYe pause for a reply.
Do not Fret.
John Wesley said, “I dare no more
fret, than to curse ai i §wear.” This
is a high attainment in faith and in
grace. If it were as general as Wes
ley’s hymns are in their diffusion, the
piety of the Christian would be amaz
ingly a« I vanced. Dare not fret? Why,
there are scores of ladies who dare do
nothing else on rainy days, and scores
ofmen who are fretful and foolish when
things do not move as they want them
to go, and yet both these women and
men are members of the church, making
loud professions of faith in Christ, em
inent for zeal on public occasions, and
esteemed to be all but saints already,
by those who profess to know them
best, but who don’t know tUcm at all
‘‘'Dare not fret 1 ”
NO. 2.