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THE CARROEE COUNTY TIMES. VOL. I. Cbe Carroll Coanln times, u PUBLISHED BY Sharpe & meigs, EVERY FRIDAY MORNING. * TERMS: One Yenr $2 00 Six month* 1 26 All payment* Invariably in Advance. Tbc paper will be stopped at the oxpiration of the'tlfhe paid for, unless subscription is previously Venewed. If the address of the subscriber is to be ciiang "<l, we must have the o.d addresses well ns the \)fvr one, to prevent mistake. Served by Carier in town without extra charge. No attention paid to anonymous communica ':riiVss, as we are responsible for everything en teringour eolumus. This rule is imperative. A X mark after subscribers name, indicates that biu time of subscription is out. ADVERTISING RATES. As an invitation to Businessmen to mike use of our columns to further their interests, the fol lowing liberal schedule for advertising has been adopted; these terms will be adhered to in all con tracts for advertising, or where advertisements are handed in without instructions: One inch or less, $1 for the tlrst and 50 cents f)r each subsequent insertion, Inches iit.iim.i 3m.1 c m. 112 m. Tlnch m $ 3 D * lO 5! Inches | 2 5 7 10 15 3 Inches | 3 7 9 12 18 4 Inches 4 8 10 15 23 b Inches 5 10 12 17 25 u Column H 12 15 20 30 v Column 10 15 20 30 50 i Column 15 20 30 50 100 Displayed advertisements will be charged ac cording to the space the” occupy. All advertisements should be marked fora speci fied time, otherwise they will be continued, and charged for until ordered out. Advertisements inserted at intervals to be charged for each new insert.on. Advertisement* for a longer period than three month*, are due, and will be collected at the begin ning ot each quarter. Transient advertisements must be paid for in advance. Advertisements discontinued before expiration ot time specified, will be charged only for time published. Notices of a personal or private character, in tended to promote any private enterprise or interest, will be charged as other advertisements. Advertise: s are requested to hand in their favors as early in the week as possible. 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.