The Newnan herald. (Newnan, Ga.) 1865-1887, December 22, 1885, Image 1

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The Newnan herald., December 22, 1885, Image 1

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Newspaper Page Text- A " • -V - f ■V The News as Herald. PUBLISHED EYEkY TttSDAT. A. B. CATKS, Editor and Publisher. hum or aCMCIiniM: One copy one year, in advance $1.50 If not paid in advance, the terms are 12.00 a year. A Olub of six allowed an extra copy. F fty-two nmnberscomplete the volume. THE NEWNAN HERALD. WOOTTEH k CATES, Proprietors. WISDOM, JUSTICE AND MODERATION.- TEBHSj.-f 1.50 per per year in .tdvanec VOLUME XXI. NEIVNAV, GEORGIA. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1885. NUMBER 10. i’lIE NeWA'AH ilEUAl ITBUSI1ED EVERY TUESDAl KATOF ADVKbT IS»» « One inch one year, $10; a ‘-oliim vt?ar, $l(K>: loss time than t liree iit«>i»J ii.o.i i eHncii for first insertion, anil cents additional for each siibse<|U*nt| nertlon. . . f Notices in local column. t*« cents i line for each* insertion. l iberal arrail mciit.s will be niiute with those advert ins; liv the quarter or your. f All transient advertisement* must paid for when handed in. Announcing Miiiclidiiius, ,v<-. strictly in advance. Aildress all eonitniinieatiens to A. I!. CATf..-. New nan <| t)nr lives are albums, written throug With irood or ill. with false or true. CHRISTMAS CAROI.. BV KINSAN J. AKIl. Mown the ages floats the echo Of an ai-thein sweet and clear, ' Chanted by pn host ofangels, In the calm .Tudean air. Oh! the glory and the rapture, Of that loud, triumphant strain: -Sweetest song e’re sent from heaven, “Peace on earth, good will to ineu ” There's no .ninor in the carol. Saddest notes belong to earth. Naught but joy and peace and gladness lllessing hearts that droop beneath Cl usliing weights of gloom and tl;u kucss, Tearless sadness, voiceless care. Merging snnsliine into shadows, Bringing hope to grim despair. Oh! that heavenly benediction! Chanted on the natal day. Of the king of earth anil heaven, Rang there he’er so grand a lay. IBtossed peace! scat nere from EdenJ Like a snow-flake pure and white, •Calming life’s great, stormy (allows, Lighting up earth’s blackest night. Holy hymn, torever ringing ‘Through the corridors” of years, Bringing peace to inch and lowly, Drying sorrow’s bitter tears. Mav'the white-robeil angel choir Chant for ayo that happy strain, May the saints unite in singing '1 wirl to men.” •Peace on enrli. LOOKING FOR SA-NTA CLAUS. A Good Story far Roys anil liirls. Oae wintry* day littfe Mina rose in the morning and found t!Ht her mother was not up. ‘ “\ This was strange, for the si£\ was high and his beams fell ^-lant through the high ga r ret winthfav up on the bare Ho >r. The stove was cold and the cpffse pot stood empty on the shelf. Mina laughed fat the (thought that she had waked before her mother. She slipped on her blue 'woolen dress, her large cheeked apron, her knitted stockings and her thick shoes and having wash- • ed her face and braided her hair in two tight little pigtails,crept around to her mother’s had, intending to kiss her awake. But her mother’s eyes were wide ooen, her cheeks wore red, and her hair was tossed about on the pillows. “Oh, my child,” she cried, as she saw her little g>rl, “what shall we do now? I am ill. I have a fever of some sort. My head is as heavy as if it was made of lead. I am not .even able to rise, much less go about my work. We shall starve togeth er, you and I, poor unhappy widow and orphan that we are.” “Oh, no, mother,” said Mina. need not starve. I can make the coffee, and go and buy the bread and sausage.” “Child, child!” cried the mother, “very soon there will be no money to buy anything. I have felt myself breaking down for a week. I have no hope now. I must send for the doctor, and when he finds I am not able to pay him he will send me to the hospital. You, poor little soul, will soon be motherless as well as fatherless.” The poor woman hid her face in the pillow. Mina wept. Tears ran down her cheeks; but she soon went to the stove and kindled a fire, and made the coffee, as she had seen her mother do it. “The coffee will do you good,moth •0-,” she said. But the poor sick another was too feverish to taste it. Then, indeed, Mina felt that ev erything was wrong. ‘•Christmas time! Christmas time!” repeated the poor woman, talking more to herself then to her child; “and Christmas used to be so happy." x At this, Mina crept closer to her mother’s bed. Yes; in two days Christmas would come. She had looked forward to it so. She had hoped that she would find iu her stocking a wax doll with blue eves. in the parlor and the window lifted and St. Nicholas came in. He gave us toys and gifts of all sorts. We were glad and yet frightened. Our wooden shoes were set in a row on the hearth at night. In each we found some gift. Such a supper! dancing! music!” “I wonder whether my old father is dead; whether my old mother lives; whether they forgive me?” She wept,but little Mina sat think- It i- LITTLE NORA’S FAiTH. ing. She thought of Santa Claus— j ny, and you always put something old St. Nicholas, the good Christ-i in her shoe, and now she cannot mas friend of all good children—h would come down the chimney, or in at the window, with any gift he pleased. Surely, if he was so good to her mother when she was a little girl, he would remember her now that she was sick. But how was he to know? He could, if he pleased, give her mother plenfy of money. Of fhat she felt certain. But how was one to find him? “Mother,” she said, where does .Santa Claus live?” The poor mother was fast grow ing -ii lirii-u-:. “A'liat did you ask?” she said, dreamily. “Where he lives? “Oh, I d i not know.” ‘But he coull <1 • aiivtlidig, give anything he-chose?” asked Mina. “Yes," said the feverish woman, “yes—yes; tell him to give me ice- nice, cold, glittering ice—to cool my head—ice, ice.” “Oil, I will get.you some ice,moth er,” said Mina. “I will go to the gro cer’s and get some.” She took a bowl from the closet ai d a penny Irom the old purse,and ran out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. There was a grocery in the lower part of 1iie house, and she went into it and up to the counter. A rosy- face butch boy gave her the ice, and lie looked so good-natured that she asked him a question. “Do you know where Santa Claus lives?" she saijl. The iioy scratched his head. “Yes—he libs in Germany,” he said. Mina’s heart leaped. “Biddy—little Biddy Flynn,” she Called to a child passing the door, “will you take this howl of ice up to my mother, and give her some, and stay by her unfit I come back. I’ll only be gone a few moments.” Good-natured little Biddy took the bowl and lan up-stairs, and Mina ran down the street that she knew to speak to you particularly. about Christmas.” | “So!” said the old gentleman—and Down in a damp cellar, where the truly he was a German—rising, air seemed stifling, a sick little girl “But what did you call me, little ! lay on a pallet ofstraw. Her cheeks were wan and sunken, her faded eyes were eloquent with distress, and yet around the thin, blue lips there was a faint smile, as if she knew that the heavenly Shepherd was very near his weary, hungry little lamb. Very near the child sat her mother sewing on a shirt, her tears failing fast upon her work. On the floor, upon an old quilt, an other child was sleeping. Restlessly he tosseil about, and finally awoke with a sob. “Mamma?mamma!” he said be seechingly, “isn’t l he shirt done yet ? “Mr. Santa Claus,” said Mina. “I’ve been looking for you all day j anil poor mother is so sick. That is why I want to see you. You used to come in at the window on Christ mas eve when she lived in Gernia- earn money because she is sick. I want you to cotne down the china ney and put enough money in her stocking to la-t until she is well, for father is dead, and we have nobody who cares fur us. And you,oh! you are so good, always going over the roofs on Christmas eve, and giving presents to everybody.” “The i hild thinks you are Santa Claus,” whispered the old German woman in her husband’s ear. “Oh, how like she is to our little Mina, do you not see ?” “Do you speak German, child?” said the old man. . “Yes,” siid Mina, “it is my moth er’s language. Yes, 1 speak it very well.” “And what is your name?” asked the old gentleman. “Mina Hoffman, Mr. Santa Claus, if you please,” replied Mina. The old woman caught her hus band's arm. “Be quiet, be quiet,” whispered the old man. “It is a common name.” “And how did you.think of com ing here, my little maiden?” “ Because you were so good,” said Mina. “To-day mother cried and told me how pleasant it used to be in Germany; and oh, Mr. Santa Claus, you must know where her father and mother are. She said she ran away from them; and I know she thought it was very naughty—only wiiat could she do if they wouldn’t let father come in ?” “Hans, Hans, it is our daughter!" cried the old woman. “What,was the . ame of your mother’s lather?” “It was Ansen. Mrs. Santa Claus,” said Mina. The old lady began to cry. She caught the child iu her arms and kissed her fondly, “Oh, good Mrs. Santa Claus, you will ask Mr. Santa Claus, to help tin ther, won’t you ?’’ pleaded Mina. But now the oi l couple took her led to the river, as fast as her feet j by the hands and led her away io could carry her. She had two cents j inner room, where the old lady in her pocket, and thought that would pay her fare. A sailor was standing near a fruit stand. Mina looked up into his round brow’n face with confidence. “Mr. Sailor,” she said, “will you tell me which of those ships goes to Germany?” Why, that one yonder, my little lass,” pointing to one over which the German flag floated. But Mina thodght he meant the little ferry boat that ran to Weehawken. “Thank you,” sue said, and flew away. A bell was ringing, she hur ried past the ferry-house, dropping her two cents into the hand of the ferry-master, and the boat was off the next-moment. It did not lake long to cross (lie river, and Mina went on shore and looked about. A great, good-natur ed looking man sat smoking lii> pipe at the door of a shoemaker's shop. Mina went up fo him and said softly “Please,sir, will you tell me \\ here Mr. Santa Claus lives?” “Mr. Santa Claus?” said the man, in broken English. “Veil, I do not know—does he keep shop or work at a trade? You tell me vot he is, den maybe l remember him.” “D in’t you know; 1 l bought “very knew Mr. Santa Ciaur.” said and a candy basket full of sugar j Mill .,. “II,—he makes toys fur lil- pliims* at least; hut she should not <• .re fur them if her poor mother were so sick. “Child, go to the old doctor,” said the mother. “Go tell him to come quickly! I must he made well if he can do it! Go! Go'” Mina put on her hood and ran away- The good old German doc- tle children.” -So.” said the German. “Sr. Yas. 1 know. Go up dis street and along to ihe next corner, den you see a little gate. Behind datyou find de man dot makes toys for de chil dren.” Mina said that she was much ob liged. She fell that people tor came back with her, and telthis | a i n j a ble in Germany, and her hopes poor countrywoman’s pulse, and| roS!e high. She followed her old wrote a prescription, and patted lit tie Mina on the head, and hade her take care of her mother. But the child took nearly all the small purse contained to pay for the powders he had ordered, and though she watched by her mother’s bed all day, the mother grew worse. She lay tossing to and fro, talking of the past. “It was Christmastime when I ran Germans direction and soon came to a high fence. There was a gate in it. She lifted the latch and open ed it, and before her was a low brown house Slowly she crept up to the window. Yes, yes. she had found Santa Claus at last. There before the fire, sat a little fat man, ■ with white hair and rosy cheeks, hard at work with a turning lathe. An old woman, as rosy as he was, rummaged in the drawer of a little bureau and brought out an old-fash ioned daguerrotype. “See, child,” she said. “Does this look like any one you know?” “It looks like mother,” cried Mi na, only—only not so old.” “It is enough,” said the old gen tleman. “Child, God has sent you. I am nut Santa Claus, I am only an o>d toy-maker, working here in Weehawken—in a strange country to which I came from my lather- bun I. But my dear, lam your grand father, iiini this is your grand-moth er. We came to America to look fur our daughter when weheaid she v i- » " nlott, bui we could not find •er. N--vv we are going to go and ak” care of her. We will go with you. And again 1 say, God sent you.” So in a few moments Mina and her grand-parents were on their i way across the ferry. It was late in the afternoon when they ci inhed the sta rs of the tene ment house. Then the old people wailed outside in the entry, and Mina went into the poor, half-fur nished room and found little Biddie Flynn still waiting patiently. “What happened ye, Mina?” she asked. “The mother 1ms been fret ting fur you.” “Oh! my child! 1 am nearly fright etied to death!” subbed the poor woman. “Mother!” cried Mina. “Oh, moth- I went to Gt rmany to find Santa Claus—for we never needed him so much. But it was not Germany, and I did not find him; hut—<di. mother—I found grandfather and grandmother!" “Mother! Father!” ciied the poor woman; and the next instant they rushed in and had her in their arms. So Mina had a merry Christinas after ail; and you may be sure that her mother got well, and that Santa Claus did not forget her. sick," she said; “but you shall have the bread in a few minutes, my child. Just take me to mamma and Nora first.” The lady did not tarry long in the (lamp cellar, blit when she left it, her purse was lighter ansi her heart fuller than when she entered it. Soon afterward she sent a basket, which, upon being opened, revealed so many things, that Nora said' with a glad cry, “Oh, mother! moth er! how good God has been to us! We asked for bread, but see what ho hs,. sent!— bread and meat, and tea and coffee, and—Oh, motheri wlmt are those you are taking out?” The tears rained down the moth er’s face as she replied, “Oh, Nurai my child, they are grapes—just Can’t I have one little bit of bread ? what I longed to buy for you, hut Oh, mamma, do please give me one piece of bread;” He was such a little fellow !-only five—and he looked up into his mother’s face with sucii a grieved, pinched, piteous face, that she was almost distracted that she could not answer his request. She threw it could not be do le; aiid here is a can of soup, all ready to heat. Bless that precious lady! surely’ she knows what a sick, starving child needs. I will make the fire, and, Nora, you get your mouth all ready for the soup.” And while the smiling mother down her work despairingly and prepared the soup, a prayer mean- 1 while filling her heart, Bennie al most swallowed the sandwiches whole. Then afterward, when the other things were removed from the basket, a note was found which read: “There is a little sunny room overhead which I have rented for y. u. Move in thi* morning, p ease. ; lie rent is already paid for six months; perhaps after that you may be in a conditional pay it yourself.” The poor widow laughed cried. “Yes,” she said to Nora, “I believe I will lie able to pay it then. I feel stronger already, and you, Nora love, look almost like your old self, with the pink coming into your cheeks. As for Bennie, it does seem as if the liny had grown fat already.”—iS'.iS'. Visitor. away with your father,” she said ! was gluing pieces of wood together Iwith the quick speech of fever. “M \ w j| j, H brush—toy chairs, tables, lather did not like him, nor my : i>edsteads, wagons, milk-maid ’ ,n,, iher either; so we ran away a ni * jfeointed dolls; and at a table sat four .were married. We came to girls painting awayvat the fin- country in a great ship. \\ e wen*; toys with the brighest colors, very happy until hVdied. Mina, do oh! this was delightful, and Santa you remember how good he was to j p| H us and his wife looked so kind, us last Christmas? Ah, only for you, Mina knocked at the door. Some only for leaving yon, my little girl, on6 cried, “Herein,” and she enter- it would seem best for me that I am gjj going to him.” “Christmas! C% in Germany, at home in German, we always had a ristmas tree, and we sat together She stood at .the threshold and dropped the little courtesy her mother had taegbt her, and said: ^please, Hr. Santa Claus, I want According to the Cologne Ga zette, the cost of restoring and completing the great cathedral from 1823, when the work was re sumed after a neglect of nearly hree-quarters of a century, has been $-3.250,900. This is indiqiendent of gifts of valuable objects for the religious services or the decoration of the building, and of a large num ber of private donations and funds for pious foundations. There are in the world 397 insti tutions for the education of deaf mutes. Germany has ninety of these, France sixty-seven, Great Britain forty-six, and the United States thirty-eight. Recent carefnl estimates place the number of these unfortunates at 800,000, clinched lier'hands passionately, while a fierce look came into her eyes. Forgetting the presence of her children, she exclaimed vehe mently, “I cannot bearit,anil I -•••ill not; the Lord has forsaken'me.” The little girl upon the pallet felt trouble ■; she (lit le Nora) had nev er seen her patient, gentle mother look like that before. But then, ‘Mother has never been 90 discour aged before,” thought the child; “hut we’ve never been so near.starv ing as now, when we’ve ad been sick, end I’m so weak yet and moth er is so weary.” “Bennie, dear, bring me my Bi ble; be quick, please,” she called to the little brother; and when he had brought the hook she opened and read, “ ‘I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.’ ” “He has forsaken me. Oh, my little Nora, lie has forsaken us all,” the mother wailed. There were tears in Nora’s eyes, but she bravely wiped them away and read again, “ ‘Have mercy up on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble.’ ” ‘Is that your prayer, Nora?” the mot! er asked a3 she saw the child’s hands clasp.” “Yes, mother.” “It will not be answered. I have prayed and no answer has come,’> came the answer bitterly. “I’m sure it will be answered, mother. The clouds are dark, but our Father’s hand can reach'through the clouds, and I believe that it will.” The mother looked-at the liftle face and hardly knew it; it was glowing witli faith. I will read you one more verse, mother. Here it is: ‘Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.’ Will you call upon him now, moth- . 9” * The tender appeal was irresisti ble. Down upon her knees dropped the tired, sorrowful mother, breath ing an earnest prayer for help in this hour of bitter need. When she arose, the tired look was partly ban ished; some of Nora’s faith had en tered her soul. Bennie, with won dering eyes, had watched the scene; lie did not exactly unJ w-stana it, but his mother had prayed for oread; and when she again to..k up her sewing he went out of the door quietly and walked up the cellar- steps to the landing. He had only been there a few minutes when he saw a shining carriage drawn by two fine horses roiling down the narrow street. It was very* seldom that a carriage passed through that street. Bennie had never seen one lie fore, and was at a loss to know what it meant; perhaps it was the Lord’s carriage; perhaps that sweet- faced lady was the Lord. Yes, she must he, for she had some flowers in her hand, and on the seat in front of her was a large, covered basket- Bennie was a timid child naturally, but three th’ugs conspired just then to make him brave enough to ad dress the lady in the carriage. These thr<-e things were—that he was very hurgry, that poor Nora was very sick, an 1 ‘hat Nora had said tne Lord would send them bread. He ran toward the carriage and waved his,brio le-s h; t. “Stop, please, Michael," the lady said to her coachman. “There’s a tiny hoy wanting something ’’ Bennie came up close to the car riage. He was panting because of his quick race, so that he could hardly speak. He looked at the la dy, who smiled in return. Yes, it JENNY. “In the sweet by-and-by, We shall meet on that beautiful shore,” Where did that musical voice come from ? I looked around from one cot to another, for the tone was unearthly sweet. M last I saw the singer, such a bit of a girl, with wan face and hollow eyes, nursing a doll al most as big as herself. “She’s better, ma’am,” said the nurse. “Soon as she’s better she begins to sing.” “What a bright little face she has!” “Oh, yes, Jenny is a pretty girl, and happy as a lark when the. pain is gon$.” “Is she dangerously ill” “Well,4t’s something, miss, from which she can’t recover, though it is thought she may’ liv.* a good many’ years. She’s a very dear child." I asked permission to speak to the little thing, who, whenever I looked that way. smiled so win- ningly that she was irresistible. “You love singing?” I said, as the wee hand crept into mine. “Oh, yes, dearly! Can you sing to me ?’’ she asked. “You shall h*ar mo by-and-by,” I said. “Before I go l will sing to all the little ones. How long have yon been here, Jenny’?” “Almost a year; ever since my mother died,” she replied. “What! have you no mother?” “I haven’t anybody—that is, of iny own,” she replied, with a »ad little smile. - “Were you always sick, my dear?" “Oh, no; it was trying to save lit tle Johnny and my mother that I got so burnt. We were very poor, you know, and I never remember my father, ‘cause he died when I was a baby, ihe week after Johnny was horn. Mother had to go out by the day and lock us in the room, and I took Care of Johnny. When she came home, she’d make us a fire and give us a nice supper. One night she-came in late «nd brought some oil for the lamp; but while she was filling it, little Johnny lighted a match so close that it took fire. I pushed little Johnny away, and it didn’t touch him; and thee. I pulled at mother, but she’d caught and so had I, and we both biased up. Oh, it was. dreadful!” and the child shuddered. I felt her little fingers tremble. “But I’m all right now,” she added, ''quickly, looking up at me with a bright smile. “But how was the fire put out, my child?” * “I don’t know; I never did know. I onlv woke up here, and I’ve been must be God, to smile so lovingly, j here ever since—hut mother died.” upon such a dirty, ragged boy as he. j Her lips quiver* d. “Beyou God?” he asked solemn ly. The lady did not shrink back in horror at thequesti in or at the e 1 in what depths of soeial mi-cry the child could have been reared, that such a place c >uhl seem like heaven. All this time the child was hug ging her doll with one arm, the tiier lying stiff and helpless, and looking into its lifeless face with all the sweet affection of her littlf trusting heart. It made the tears cotne into my eyes to see her so content. Bat just then we were interrupted. “There’s a gentleman, ma’am, who wants to spe you,” said an attendant, coining up to the bed and speaking to the nurse. “He is in the small parlor below." The nurse left u- with a nod ami a smile, and after a little time had el tpsed, she came hack with a tall, gentle manly-looking man, whom sire left at the door, gazing anxiously up and down the wards of this evident ly new sight to him. I thought the woman seemed flurried when she catne towards us, and that she seated herself with a nervous kind of motion on the edge of the little cot-bed in which her little patien lay. » “.Jenny, my dear,” she said softly, “Jenny, my dear,—I’ve g >t -ome- tliing to tell you.” The child put up her little hand with a caressing movement. “Did you ever know your mother to speak of yotrrUncle Ben ?’’ “No, ma’am,”said the child. “Never said she had a brother?” “Oh, yes, ma’am,” said th* girl, and i her face lighting up, “she used to kiss a picture site said was her brother.” “Did she ever say is was dead?” “No, I thin c not,” was the reply; \it,ither never talked, she was so tired when she came home.” •“.Veil, little Jenny, your mother did have a brother who went away years ago, and was never heard from. I suppose she thought he was dead, but he was not. He was away off in another part of the world, earning his living, and he itasjusi come back to America, and after a great deal of patient searching, lie finds that his poor sister is dead, but that his little niece is al*ve, though sick in a hospital.” • “Is it me?” cries Jenny, a light breaking all over her face. “Yes, dear, it is you.” “Oh, and he is my uncle?” “Yes; he is your uncle.” “Then I have got somebody of my own.” “Yes; shall I bring him here?” “Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, eager ly, her eyes like stars. I shall not even try to describe this meeting, even though it was by no means demonstrative. Could I depict her smile! That patiently pain-touched smile! Could I paint that pitiful look on his face that told one just what a man he was, and that his gi eat heart was both sorry and glad! No, neither can I describe a visit -I made to little Jenny 7 in the pleasant country, where I found her out on the lawn in a wheel-chair, visibly improved, surrounded by charming people and beautiful things. If the dreary hospital had been heaven to Jenny, what was this?—Companion. H. S. WRIGHT'S New Drug Store: is the place to get AND PURE DRUGS. att.l at living figures. He also kecj to.-k FRESH Jtt-l what von win „ FIRST-CLASS MACHINE OIL. CYLINDER OIL, NEATS FOOT OIL, Ar., Ac. AND A SPLENDID LINE OF LAMPS AND FIXTURE! Bein'’ an experienced druggist, lie is ready to FILL PRESCRIPTIONS (];iv or nighU Rc* sun* to rail on WH.IGHT. at alll hours of EC. Si- shabby questioner; she only drew off her glove quickly and laid a soft hand on the child’s hand lovingly: “I inn God’s servant, dear. Will that do?” “And, please, do you have bread in that basket, an’ could you give me just a littl ■ bit for Nora, and mamma An’me? Could you?” “I have no bread in' the basket, but flowers J am carrying to the “GOING TO.” Children are very fond of say ing: “I was going to.” The boy lets the rats catch his chickens. He was going to fill up the hole with glass, and to set traps for the rats: but he did not do it in time, and the chickens were eaten. He con soles himself for the loss and ex cuses his carelessness by saying: “J was going to attend to that.” A horse fairs through a broken plank in the stable and breaks his leg, and is killed to put him out of his sufferirg. The owner was going to fix that weak plank, and so excuses himself. A boy wets his feet- and sits for hours without changing his shoes, catches a severe cold and is obliged to have the doctor for week. His mother told him to change his shoes when he came in, and he was going to do it, but hv did not. A girl tears her new dress so badly that all her mendijg can not make it look well again. Tljere was a little rent, before, and she was going to mend it, hut she forgot. And so we might go on giving in stance after instance, such as haj)- pen in every home with almost every man and woman, boy and girl. “Procrastination” i- not only “the thief of time,” hut the work er of vast mischiefs. If.a Mister “I was-going-to” lives i“ your house, just give him warning to leave. Ke is a lounger and nuisance. II never did any good. lie ha- wrought unnumbered mischief-. The girl or boy who begins to live MILLINERY GOODS MRS. F. G. HILL HAS RECEIVED HER S T O C K. A. I j I- of now ami fresh goo«ls -i ■ i 1**’ ps Thankful for liberal pat over Cuttino’s store. tro«} to attend the past she sol tot'd*' wants of her >li(-its continued fav< ustomers. r. Room 8 scp‘2D THOMPSON BROS. Bedroom, Parlor and Dining Room Furniture. Big Stock and Low Prices. PARLOR AND CHURCH ORGANS. Wm and METALLIC BURIAL CASES £*r()rders attended to at any hour day or night.jgj THOMPSON BROS., Newnan, Ga. soplfi- ly New Grocery Store! Fancy and Family Groceries/ Teas, Coffoe, Sugars, Syrup, Flour, Lard, Hams, Bacon, and Canned Goods in Endless Variety ! A-LARGE LOT OF TIN WARE AT FIVE AND TEN CENTS. Also, a line line of CIQiVRS, TOB4CCO, Etc. Greenville Street. L. BEBRO. Next door to Reese's drug store. MILLINERY! MRS- R- M- BARNES. ON DEPOT STREET. Wishes to inform the public, that she will supply them with fine Fash ionable MILLINERY GOODS at low prices. Call and examine her stock before buying elsewhere. W .S Winters ESTABLISHED 1873. G. W. Nelson. WintersABDNelson -DEALERS IN- fiaxoA offers -A N D- OK EVERY DESCRIPTION. —ra—t Taken in Exchange for new Ones. CHATTANOOGA, TENN. “And Johnny s he brightened again. “Johnny didn’t live a great while after mother died, and she’s got with him w.ll have a very unhappy him.” “And you are happy here?" “Yes, i"deed; they are so good' to me, and 1 think—it’sju'st iike heav en.” I looked round upon the little white cots with their pale-faced occupants, the monotony of white walla, the ever-recurring visits of nurse and physicians, and wonder- time of it, and life will not be^ suc- cesstul. Put Mister “I-was-going- to” out of your house, and keep him out. Always do things which you are going to do.—Jiaplist Weekly. Paris husband and wife—He: “Assuredli.v yon were I .or n to .mar ry an idiot!" She: “Yes’ and I mad’ po mistake!" BRING YOUR JOBWORK TO THIS OFFICE. And Let it Done in The Latest Styles. |Vc (Hiarantee Satihfflction.