Newspaper Page Text
The Adel News.
A -A. WES®, Ed. and Prop.
Adel, Ga., Friday, De ember 28, 1900.
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A l r ~ HY C 3 PfiC
m r H, Christmas BEAUTIFUL day,
Began with the gold¬
-T en morn,
. You come, you come
to a waiting world,
With the tidings that Christ is born.
You tell it to listening ears,
The story so grand, so true, day!
Oh, beautiful, beautiful Christmas
The story so old, yet new.
You whisper of joy and hope!
You tell us of Heaven’s great plan;
Of peace, sweet peace, and joy on earth,
And of God’s good win to man.
You say to the sad: “Hook up!”
To the weary ones: “Now rest!”
Oh, beautiful, beautiful Christmas day,
Of all bright days the best.
Ring out, ye Christmas bells,
And carry the tidings on,
That we may have a heaven below
Through God’s anointed Son!
Let the men and maidens sing;
Let the children ail rejoice;
While a ransomed world lifts up
Its universal voice.
Oh, beautiful Christmas day,
Shining forth like a jeweled crown.
With cheer for each trusting soul,
From the aged patriarch down!
Let us wipe away our tears,
Of sin and sorrow born,
On this beautiful, beautiful Christmas day,
Begun with the golden morn.
—Mrs. M. A. Kidder, in N. Y. Ledger.
TREATED HIM RIGHT.
Miss Jane Resented the Conduct of the
Hoevrtless “Exquisite.”
He was an exquisite of the first tvater,
and she was a really girly girl, vivacious
and enthusiastic owl - t'he holiday season.
She did not look like a girl on whom for¬
tune had smiled her brightest, either.
They were talking of Christmas giving—
that is. he was. and she was listening—as
they walked up the avenue.
“Don’t you know. Miss Jane, I have been
awfully hard worked the last week. Why,
I must have selected at least five pres¬
ents. I always make it a point to remem¬
ber the servants, as well as mamma and
papa, don’t you know. It is more blessed
to give than to receive. I realize that, and
I give away a lot at Christmas—I really do,
don’t you know-
Just then the twirler of the exquisite was
interrupted by a shrill scream from a little
girl and a howl of rage from a small boy,
also by the crash of breaking china, the
twirling cane of the young dude having
struck a package from the hands of the
two little children.
“What was it, dear?” asked the young
lady, as she tried to stop the sobs of the
little woman.
“We just had t-ten cents, and there was
a cup and saucer for mamma and a cute
little china angel for Jimmie—he’s lame
and can’t walk—and now they’re all
broke,” and she howlecj afresh.
Meantime a crowd was collecting and
the exquisite got uneasy. “Come, Miss
Jane,” he said, impatiently, “don’t be an¬
noyed by these kids any longer. It’s one
of their games, don’t you know. I want
you lo help me select a scarfpin for Tom.
Awfully fine fellow, Tom is,” and he
beamed benignantly on the crowd.
“Mies Jane" straightened up, and, step¬
ping between the two children, took a hand
of each, and with a “good morning” curtly
flung over her shoulder, walked into the
china store, while the exquisite fled up
the avenue.—Washington Jjjfai,’
A WW YEAR. PROPOSAL.
“What resolutions have I vowed to keep
the coming year?
Come, sit beside me, maiden fair, and
straightway you shall hear:
I’ve pledged myself tq phppse one girl from
out the throng' tg
And tow with an hQOm loy e f 0 rmr
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I’ll WOIK tor her with brain and brawn,
with all my might and main,
"Until I’ve won her everything that hon¬
esty can gain; till
I’ll fill her life with all that's good, life
itself is done—
And while we train our minds and hearts
we’ll not neglect the fun.
Now tell me, won’t you, maiden fair, what
you have vowed to do—
For I’ve laid bare my inmost soul to no
one but to you?”
“I’ve made no pledges,” she replied in so
demure a tone,
“But. if you don’t object. I’ll try to help
you keep your own!”
—Wallace Dunbar Vincent, in Frank Les¬
lie’s Popular Monthly.
REAL CONSIDERATE.
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The Woman—Why don’t you give your
husband some collar buttons for Christ¬
mas?
The Wife—Oh, he loses them so quickly
that he feels like he’s paying for something
he didn’t get.—N. Y. World.
Tommy Got One. I
Tomffi Christmas morning)—Whore '
feis get all his stuff, maffimg •
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PRESENTS FOR A BOY.
They Should Bo SvicR as Will Delight
His Youthful Heart.
cc-Yint shall .v. .
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for weeks before Tiave been filled with
yj^ terns. s The most beautiful f ££? knitted *°*&c muffler
woman s fingers ever constructed cannot
compare with a jack-knife with four blades
and a cork-screw attachment, when exhib-
ited over the back fence to a neighbor boy
•on Christmas morning. Very soon after
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fcoPYftlOHT, ISOO, A. N. KELLOGG NEWSPAPER 03 .
The Twentieth Century Santa Claus.
TJV years gone by token motive powers
<* Were yet to be developed
K.ris K^ringle made his Christmas trips
With deer and sleigh, enveloped
In furs and robes to shield him from
Che blasts and breezes frigid
Which in the far-off northern cltfne
Would quicKfy freeze him rigid.
Jk S' time Went by more speedy fffeans
** Of 1 rax) el Were inxJented,
*flnd With each new one Sc&rta Claus
Velas more and more contented:
Of each in turn the good old saint
‘"Became the proud possessor.
^flnd for his purpose each, he thought.
Outstripped its predecessor.
days of kilts a boy reaches the age
when he yearns with his whole soul after
any toy or contrivance that will test his
muscular skill or endurance. -At this age
an appropriate present would be a rawhide
or rope lariat, such as is used hy the Buf-
falo Bill riders. A pair of hand or arm
■stilts will be received with equal favor,
and in the same category comes a new
fishing rod, snow shoes, tesxvte racket, golf
clubs, a good bell, lamp or cyclometer for
his wheel, or even a live pet, a new dog, a
pair of rabbits or guinea pigs—something
that he can pet and train for all his own.
—Maud Souders, im Woman’s Home Com¬
panion.
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SENT LETTERS TO SANTA.
Baby Ruth Watehed -the Missives Fly
Up the Smoking Chimney.
She has ’not ’lived‘long enough to have
lost belief in the actual pilgrimage of
Santa Claus from the far-away north. She
fervently holds that he is and that all she
’has to 'do to get Wishes fs to write to him.
But she nOVer trusts the.postman with her
queer scrawls; that Would never do. She
is a BUsy little Creature, is Baby Ruth,
and -has soT&iany’Wishes that she has used
Up a pad of’paper for her father since the
season " began ! to get near enough to speak
There is a fireplace in the family loung-
where Ruth'has lived her three
Or-four'years. 'The open grate sends out
OUR ANNUAL SUPPLEMENT.
a cheerful blaze and comforting warmth.
This is Ruth’s mailing box. She sends her
Maze J elter to which old St. rise Nick from up the in the smoke She and
coals. is
wary of.too much blaze, for then the letter
sS 5 x
A few days before Christmas her mother
£ before omid tho the lying ilat on her the stomach
grate peering up into chim-
® ey " Tie attitude of strained attention
attracted the mother and she waited for
“Pshaw/* came from the baby lips,
“Nasty old chimney. My letter’s slicked,
I grot to write another.”
“What are you doing, child?” asked the
mother.
“Writing to Santy. I want a new dolly
and some candy and a fur hat and some
shoes with real buckles like Tottie’s got
and—”
“Did you ask Santy for them?”
“Yes, and then I put the letter in the
smoke and it went up. But that one got
sticked and I got to write it all over.”—
Chicago Times-Herald.
A WELL-DESERVED FATE.
A" ?rii)Q S
JATW^OH
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Doctor—What’s the matter?
Ambulance Driver—He made a speech
at the newsboys’ festival and said there
wasn’t any such thing as Santa Claus.—
Cleveland Leader.
HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS!
Glo-d Greeting and Happy Re-union
That These Words Suggest.
No other season of the year comes to us
so laden with glad associations as Christ-
mastide. “Home for the holidays!” What
music and charm there is in those words!
What wistful longings they inspire! What
glad greetings and reunions they suggest!
What visions of home life and love they
call up! It is a peculiarly home festival.
The midsummer holiday season takes us
to the mountains, to the seaside, to quiet
resting places in the country. The home
circle is broken. We 33ve "abroad and ev¬
erywhere,” finding a targe part of our de¬
light amid the beauties of nature. Amid
the bareness and desolation of winter we
find our pleasures in the home. Heart calls
frr> \7T buith the passing years he found
His calling list increasing —
Che number of his tittle friends
Enlarging without ceasing —
Compelling him to seef{ a means
Of greater expedition
Chat he might yet more swiftly speed
\Jpon his Kindly mission.
ft© for the Twentieth Century he
Che latest mode is trying —
airship of a special build
For swift and distant flying:
From place to place he darts through space
LiKp a huge bird a-winging.
Co each and alt from cloudland down
His gifts and blessings bringing.
FRANK B. WELCH.
to heart and finds Its satisfaction in the
interchange of social sympathies and home
affections. Survival of customs from the
past, when baronial halls and castles in
old England resounded with mirth and
song, and the Yule log crackled on the
hearth, and tables were laden with boun¬
teous hospitality, and even lowly cottage
homes were decora ted'with bay and holly,
still linger in holly wreaths and mistletoe
boughs, in cheery greetings and home re¬
unions, The eyes of the little ones grow
bright with expectancy as the day draws
near. Stockings are filled and Christmas
trees are gayly decorated. Gifts are in¬
terchanged. The old grow young in heart
again. Sympathies are quickened and en¬
larged. The grasping, self-seeking spirit
relaxes its hold for awhile, and the spirit
of general charity that finds Its joy in
making glad the hearts of others bears
sway. Welcome Chrlstmastide, and a mer¬
ry Christmas to all!—Baptist Union.
NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS.
Looking Hopefully Forward «. Sign of
YovxtKfulrvoss.
New Year resolutions belong fo youth,
and the spirit of youth. When we grow
old we are indifferent to the succession of
years, and they go by as months without
epoch. “Woe be to us when we cease to
form new resolutions on the opening of a
new year!” It is an indication of old age
when we cease to look hopefully forward
and to plan meeting the new duties and
experiences the coming year must hiring.
The man who feels he cannot advance and
grow wiser acd better with years is in
an unfortunate place. At whatever time
In his career he thus rests his efforts he is
old and no longer leads an active life of
usefulness, and a man or woman who does
not lead a life of usefulness is as good as
dead.
Age is not always a matter of time; it
Is quite often a matter of condition. W T e
have all of us known beautiful old men
and women of four-score who have never
grown old in spirit, but have kept apace
with life. Each New Year brought new
hopes and new resolutions. They were
full of inspiration for all around them, and
ready to meet every emergency with the
wisdom and wit that come from years
wisely spent. We have also known men
and women who though still young in
years were hopelessly ennuied, who had
learned no lesson from life, and seemed to
have exhausted in their youth all pleas¬
ure and hope of pleasure. They make no
resolutions for the New Year. Hopelessly
blase, they try to live for the hour.
Nothing is more deplorable than a life
with no object to live for. The fact that
we have tasks each day to do, something
to look forward to, something to plan for
the future, is in itself a great blessing;
when this is done for others It is the great¬
est blessing we have. If we could have our
food provided for us as the manna of the
wilderness was provided for the wander¬
ing children of Israel, it would not be a
thing to be thankful for; it would be a
curse, We would soon weary of the monot-
ony of such an inane existence. Our reso-
lutions for the future, our exertions and
our hopes, lift us each year to a higher
plane, and thus we
“Rise on stepping stones higher
Of our dead selves to things.”
—N. Y. Tribune.
Remember the Sorrowful.
There are homes in which the approach
of the holidays is dreaded, because of
losses that have been sustained and sor¬
rows that have come during the last year.
May we not enter more largely into the
true spirit of the occasion if we remem¬
ber, as tenderly as we may, those for
whom the day only emphasizes the grief?—
United Presbyterian.
lAOTIFUL ™
[ETHLEHEM
ELLS.'^s
VER the roar fif
the cities—over the
hills and the de.ls.
With a message of
T\ il rL ^"vVelljjte^T yjjjjgi.peace to the na¬
t i o n s, ring tea
j7~- 1 ijflTSJW beautiful Bethle-
“3 hem bells.
VV Bringing* joy to the
souls that are sigh¬
ing in the hovels where Poverty
dwells—
There is life—there is life for the dying
in the beautiful Bethlehem bell's!
Far off—in a land that is lovely for the
tender, sweet story it tells.
In the light of a glorious morning rang
the beautiful Bethlehem bells;
And still, in the hearts of creation an an-
them exultingly swells
At that memory sweet of the ringing of
the beautiful Bethlehem bells!
They rang o’er the hills and the valleys,
they summoned the glad world that
day.
From regions of night to the radiant light
of the cot where the Beautiful lay.
And forever and ever and ever a wonder¬
ful melody dwells
In the tender, sweet ringing and singing
of the beautiful Bethlehem bells!
For they sing of a love that is deathless
—a love that still triumphs in loss;
They sing of the love that is leading the
world to the Calvary cross;
Ring sweet o’er the sound of the cities—
ring sweet o’er the hills and the dells.
And beautiful touch us with tenderest pities, oh’
Bethlehem bells!
—F. L. Stanton, in Atlanta Constitution.
THE CRIPPLE S CHRISTMAS.
It Was Brightened by the Cha.rite.ble
Deed of o.rv Unknown.
Leaning on a pair of rough crutches, a
poorly-clothed cripple stood watching the
throng of Christmas shoppers hurrying by
with smiling faces and arms filled with
bundles.
An expression of bitter despondency and
an empty trouser leg pinned to his side told
the story of his pitiable condition. Often
he was jostled by the hurrying crowd, but
did not move or remonstrate.
A bronzed-looking man with a soft hat
stopped short as he noticed the cripple’s
face, and, after regarding him a moment,
said:
“Where will you pass Christmas, my
man?"
With a wave of his hand toward the
street the cripple answered the question.
His questioner looked at him a few mo¬
ments in silence and then said:
“Come with me, old fellow. I'll buy you a
Christmas present."
A curious crowd followed the cripple and
his benefactor. Thej' were rewarded, for
a few minutes later the cripple was in a
State street store being fitted with an arti¬
ficial limb. As luck would have it, one was
found which met requirements, and the
cripple left the store with a substitute for
the limb, the loss of which accounted for
his condition. And in addition he clasped a
five-dollar note in his hand and wore an
expression of renewed hope on his face.
The cripple spent the day In a lodging
house, but a Christmas gift had brought
with it hope and comfort that brighten
even those surroundings, while his benefac¬
tor had gone his w-ay, refusing to tell his
name or the motive which actuated him to
bestow the gift.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
DON’T FORGET.
Winter winds are cold and drear,
Don’t forget;
You who lack not Christmas cheer,
Don’t forget.
There are weary ones who wait
By a dark and fireless grate,
While the Christmas Eve grows late,
Don’t forget.
Christmas joys are like a song,
Don’t forget;
And the dreary nights are long,
Don’t forget.
Though the city streets are wide.
Hunger wanders by your side,
Don’t forget.
There are little children frail,
Don’t forget;
Women too with faces pale,
Don’t forget.
Men with idle hands though strong.
Passing in the ceaseless throng,
Christmas joys to them belong,
Don’t forget.
Love is better still than creed,
Don’t forget;
For your help they mutely plead,
Don’t forget.
While the bells of Christmas ring.
And earth’s happy voices sing.
To the poor your offerings bring.
Don’t forget.
—Ruth Raymond, in Ladies’ World, New
York.
MARGARET’S NOTE TO SANTA.
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I have a little sister,
As cute as cute can be;
Her stocking’s small and won’t hold all
She ought to have, you see!
So, dear old Santa, won’t you please
Remember her and me
By clear to the top just filling these—
Then—there’s the Christmas tree!
Sizing the Pile.
“Pa, how much money have you got ter
Chris’mus?”
“Why, Tommy?”
“Well, pa, I can’t tell what t’ ask Santy
Claus fer till I know how much money
you’ve got.”—Indianapolis Jourfial.
Turned Over.
Teacher—Johnny, what time of the year
is it when the leaves begin to turn?
Johnny Update—New Year’s.—Brooklyn
Life.