Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

1994. THE AR6OS. к. j. iiAK.no> & j. u< McDonald, Editors and Publishers. BEST SEORSIA PAPER.. SI.OO a 7SikR. SUBSCRIBE NOW! yL , ...'3\ '' dear word, U | C h ristraas, 1 1 ■ marshals 1j ml /// 1 le £ ions of P re ‘ ‘'i\ W /// Jl cious memories \D j j ou t from the past and crowns the future with a nalo of golden, cheery promises. Out from the shadows come the festive times when Santa Claus was a verity, with his fat paunch and great, rosy cheeks; when, on awaking, stockings filled to bursting greeted the eye, and at even tide the flashing Christmas tree fairly laughed its satisfaction at the joyous gladness it was diffusing all around. Day of the children! An infantine lar.gli is the divinest of songs in the ear of the Christ, who was once a help less babe, His only shelter a mother’s loving breast. The Man-Christ took little ones in 11 is arms and blessed them, de claring that all must be as they in trust and innocence, if they would be heirs to His everlasting kingdom. Day of home-bringing and home gathering, when the loved ones meet аа. unselfishly live in the pleasure each cf the other. Tender affection banishes self and man lives in touch with his fellow, glorified of the divine benediction of love. He is nearest to divinity who gets farthest from self, and the gifts of Christmas-tide are so many pledges of disinterested esteem for the recipients. A time is this when care rolls away like a scroll in the fire, and mirth and good will become the all-pervading genii of the household. Love and joj r cross the threshold and kiss one another, as they pronounce a blessing upon all beneath the roof. Peace covers the dear ones as a man tle, gladness so abovjTjds that it, js the day of all days throughout the metes end bounds of Christendom. Christmas of sleigh-bells and crystal snow. Christmas of warmth and flow ers, for the Christ-day girdles the earth and embraces all climates and all nations, and everywhere, thank God! it is a day of festive joy and hap piness—a fitting commemoration of the fulfillment of the promise made by the herald of God in the glowing words: “I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all people.” It is peculiarly the Christ day, a time when the beauty of Hisself-abnegating life is reflected in sublime majesty. Never a selfish shadow obscured His path; His the grandest of all epitaphs; He lived and He died that others might live forever. A man without a home,' He has gladdened and brightened mil lions of homes. He w r as a man of sor rows, acquainted with grief, yet from Hlb presence an ocean of consolation has spread out and covered the earth with its waters of healing. His last prayer was an intercession for His ene mies, and His last sigh a breath of con fidence in God. The glory song of the herald angels, sung at the first Christmas, that paean of praise to God and pledge of peace to man, shall never die. The grandest of all carols, dearest of all angel hj’mns, time has destroyed none of its sweet ness and has preserved all of its prom ise. Peace and amity dwell where the spirit of Jesus prevails, and each Christ day is a benison indeed to those who see His face through the clouds and the mists of mortality. Christmas, the home day, the Christ day! May its lessons and its blessings gladden all hearts and make a truth of the common salutation: “A Merry Christmas be upon you.” William Rosser Cobbe. THE FAD OF THE HOUK. The man in the moon hangs up his stocking.—Golden Days. An Even Exchange. Mrs. Bride—l suppose you and Fred will give each other handsome holiday presents? Miss Fiance—Yes; w T e have promised to surrender our liberties to each other risrht away.—Raymond’s Monthly. HIS CHRISTMAS GREETING. BY ELISA AUMSTROXO. The cemetery gates closed with a clang behind one man ns he stepped out into the snow-covered road; it was almost dark and he nearly ran into the other man who stumbled along as if very weary. "Yonder’s th’ shortest way into town, isn t it?" the latter asked. "Yep. Most folks want to know th’ shortest way out,” he grinned. ‘T’m glad enough to get out o’ where I was,” muttered the other. As he lighted his pipe the flame showed his pale face. The other man edged away. “Ye ain’t been in jail?” “Worse. Penitentiary. Ye needn’t be askeered, though—l've had enough. Didn't do it, either, but, ye see. I was kind o’ good for nothin’, an' the judge was running for reelection, so I went up. Got out for Christmas, though, on account o' good behavior.” “Um, well, so ’tis Christmas time— folks oughtn't to be hard on nobody now. ” “No. I most took ye fer a Christmas ghost a bit ago.” "Been working late. I'm a stone ma son, and I'd promised a rich old party . IpSoTm?. HI ■ ' ■}' Jim. s&*&j** “MARY LYONS WAS THE NAME.” to have a stone put over a child’s grave by to-morrow, sure. He said he’d like her to have something fer a Christmas gift.” “Poor soul! I’m better off ef he *s rich. I’ll see mv kid to-night. My Iff in 11 in Fin mu 1 gUiymiji 111,11111 m ifi-m 1 RESIDENCE OF Dr. J. LEE BYRON, THIRD STREET. brother's been taking 1 keer of her since I was took. I’ll take her now, an’ I’m bound to keep straight, for her sake, from now on. That man got any more kids?” “None. This was only adopted; be longed to some poor relation, but he loved her like his own. Died sudden about ten days ago—he took it hard, too; said he was forty-nine and she only about ten, so he'd expected she'd choose his headstone.” “Poor soul! My girl's most ten now.” “Lemme see,” he lit a match and consulted a paper as they walked along, “she was nine years, eleven months and three days old. It was a pretty stone; the boss says: ‘Noth ing’s too good for Mary,’ says he.” “Mary! Why, that’s my girl’s name —here, lemme see that!” The match went out and his fingers trembled so that he could not light another. “Mary Lyons was the name,” said the stone mason, gently. “Merciful God, my own child!" cried the ex-convict. Then, through the still night air, the glad church bells rang out. He Was Surprised. Mrs. Gazzam —I've got a box of cigars for my husband’s Christmas present, which will surprise him. Mrs. Maddox —Women don't know how to buy cigars for men. Mrs. Gazzam —I know that, so I got brother Jack to get them for me. — J udge. Bells and Bills. Mrs. Newlywed—How I love to bear the merry Christmas bells. Mr. Newlywed —I’d like to hear them, too, if Christmas bells were not so con foundedly suggestive of Christmas bills. An Absorbing: Girl. “There is no such person as Santa Claus, is there?” asked a small girl of her mother. “Some folks say there is not,” was the reply. “Well, I don't care. I don't like folks who say there isn't any Santa Claus. They never give any nice presents.” — N. Y. Journal. ♦OHRISTMAS EBITION.* FADLEY’S CHRISTMAS GIFTS. BY FRANK U. WELCH. Young Mr. Fadley was in a worry. He had some Christmas presents to buy, and what to get was what wor ried him. First and foremost, there was Miss Damon, upon whom he was anxious to create an impression—she must have something appropriate and elegant, whether anybody else got anything or not. Then there was his bosom friend and constant companion Harvey, a good fellow who had placed him under obligation times without number —him he could not forget. This being the case, Fadley started out to rummage the stores. lie overhauled all the leading shops in town, and by Christinas Eve had col lected what he thought was a pretty sensible lot of presents for an amateur Santa Claus to get together. For the lady of his choice he had a handsome toilet outfit of combs, brushes, powder puffs and boxes, manicure implements, hand mirrors, and no end of other ele gant articles for feminine use. These xvere all inclosed in an elaborately be plushed and inlaid case which was neatly wrapped and all ready to be sent to the intended recipient. For his friend Harvey he had an elegant “JUST AS IF 1 WERE IN NEED OF A SHAVE.” shaving set, consisting of razors, brushes, cups, hones, etc., done up in a substantial case which was also ready to be dispatched to the home of his fr i ers (1 Not daring to trust a messenger with the presents for fear of some mistake Fadley started out himself to deliver them. First he called at Harvey’s house, timing his call so as not to catch his friend at home. With his friend’s mother he intrusted the package, she promising that it should not be tam pered with until Harvey should open it himself the next morning. Then he called at the abode of Miss Damon. The ring was answered by a servant, who said the young lady was out doing her Christmas shopping. Here was a. piece of good luck. Leaving the pack age with explicit instructions as to its delivery Fadley said he would call, Christmas night, as per previous ar rangement with the young lady. There was a big job off his hands, and Fadley mentalby patted himself on the back at having done it up so neatly. He pictured to himself the glad sur prise of Miss Damon when she should receive the substantial evidence of his regard, and chuckled over the little surprise in store for his dear friend and chum, Harvey. Early Christmas morning Miss Damon received her package, upon opening which she ex claimed: “Well, I never! Just as if I were in need of a shave. Who ever has been so kind as to furnish me with this ton sorial outfit?” Then her eye caught the corner of a card sticking out of one of the compartments of the case. This she drew forth and read: “From yours faithfully, H. Ira Fadley.” “Oh!” said the mischievous young lady; “Mr. Fadley, eh? Well, just wait till he comes this evening. I'll bawl ‘Next’ at him; see if I don’t.” Of all the mortified swains that ever got into a pickle Fadley felt the worst when the idol of his heart flashed the shaving tools on him. He was utterly speechless, until it occurred to him that his friend Harvey had his dear one's toilet set and one of the sweetest of little notes that ever a lovesick fel low put together. Insult to Injurj-. Thistlewood —Did he say anj-thing to you when he handed you the bill? Impecune —Yes; wished me a happy New Year. mRESHOUft THV&r& Another little drop has sunk into the great ocean of infinity. Another trembling ray from man’s life-sun has been sent upon its mission through measureless space. Another round has been fashioned in the ladder of destiny —and before us is the new year. All the mighty centuries, with their ag gregate creation of form from chaos, have been built from these molecules of time. As the coral in the depths of the sea becomes the basic fragment of a continent only when it lias yielded up the body in which it was sensate organism, so our yeais. precious to us, thrilling with the emotions that mark existence, become fragments of the world's history only when we lose our grasp of them and they are gone. They become imperishable only when to us they have dropped petal by petal their days, and their color and fragrance have departed. Time is the most profound of all mysteries, the most unfathomable of all secrets. Intangible yet potent, coming whence who can tell, going whither who knows? Each year is an epitome of all that has come and gone, since the first indestructible atom of matter displaced the darkness of pri mordial emptiness, and wandering on the wings of ether found an orbit, and became the nucleus of a universe. With in the bosom of the years lies the story of man from the cradle to the grave, the unwritten history of unborn nations; the rise and fall of empires, systems and creeds; the riddle which can never be read by mortal eyes. We look at the past and strive to grasp its meaning, to garner up a few sheaves of wisdom. We turn our eyes to the fu ture, enraptured at the mirage of wav ing fields of untrodden effort, ready for the sickle of the mind, and looking backward and forward the precious present slips away and to-morrow be comes yesterday. Anew year! Heir of all the wealth of the old years, pulsing with possibil ity, great with promise. It is well that we bow the knee and lift the heart, as the old passeth, and the new cometh out of the door of the storehouse of futui’e centuries, surrounded by its cycle of days, each bearing aloft its un lit torch awaiting the signal of the bridegroom. Nations, like the planet upon which they live, have their era of subsidence and j emergence, their tidal waves and earthquakes, their glacial epochs and their periods of teeming fertility of though achievement us well as of glory and prosperity. Now and again they are shaken to their center and old forms give way to newer and better. Thus is the miracle of creation made recurrent. Looking upon the life-chart of nations, as it lies spread out before us in history, we see here and there an illumined mountain peak, a Mohammed, Christ, Luther or Cromwell, and here and there a burned out crater of passion, a Waterloo, a Flodden Field, a Gettysburg. Moun tain-peak and crater are a part of the great scheme of humanity, abiding places for the eternal sunlight guiding men to loftier heights of patriotism and purity, or warnings of the smol dering fires which keep the earth throbbing with heat and vitality, when prisoned, but unchained involve it in ruin. i The year that has gone has been one • of regret and disappointment to us as a ! people. Like the prophet of old we j have looked to the heavens for a sign i and found it not, and bowing our ! hearts we have waited with what pa • tience we might for Time, the healer, to cause us to forget our wounds. All that was in the old year, but the dawn of anew future shines upon us. As we gaze upon its first roseate ray we pic ture to ourselves the gratification of hope deferred. We hear in the tones of the bell, still quivering with the dirge of the past, anew strain. It [ breathes of hope, tells of strife soothed to peace, hatred quenched in forgive ness. We follow the ray and it leads us to the embers on the hearthstone of the old year. Looking closer, we find it was kindled there. Amid the ashes of shame and violence, fires of patriot l ism and brotherly love still burned. Dark indeed will be the old year that sees them quenched in our land; darker still the new year that gives no promise of liberty under law and no respect for the ideals of the Dast, Another year, would we linger in the portals of the past, where we have been garlanded with love and joy or where age has crowned us with frui tion? Behind us the crowding centu ries push like a great army hurrying in hot haste to the victory. Onward they press, sweeping all before them., Alas! we may not pause. Reluctant or willing, we are hurried forward toward those battlements, which, seen dimly against the horizon, may be mist shrouded and so near at hand that the next step will bring us to the grim gates which open but once to every mortal, and behind which there is a mystery greater than that of Time. Those trampling centuries, thundering forward with a tread like the music of the stars, “so loud it deafens mortal ears,” are advancing to carry man to the highest pinnacle of hope and achievement. Woe b” to us if each day we join not the host a.-, valiant soldiers, ready to storm any fortress of wrong and prejudice, willing to do battle ac cording to the strength of our souls and the justice of our cause. If you are not a subscriber to the A il eus, is there auv reason why you should not be ? —— BUY YOUR Phaetons. Surries, DllDJjfA Harness,&c y L —- OF 1.1, CARMICHAEL. Largest Stock of the Latest Styles ever carried in Jackson to select from. Ball Bearing and Rubber Tire Buggies See them! Try them! Runs light and Rides easy. The Novelties of the season are to be found at JACKSON CARRIAGE FACTORY. I Winter Lap Robes ! The largest stock, Best Qualities, and latest styles to select from. Head quarters for Buggy Robes. REPAIR WORK A SPECIALTY! Quickly and Substantially done at Reasonable Rates by Competent Men. So biing your Repair Work to the JACKSON CARRIAGE FACTORY. T GUANO FOR 1895. To those of my Customers and Friends who have so liberally patronized me in the past, and who expect to use Guano or Acids another season, I would kindly ask them to call on me and get my prices, etc., before buying, as I assure you I will use my utmost endeavers to please you. I will also be pleased to supply you with Cotton £eed Meal. Respectfully J. R. CARMICHAEL. JACKSON INSTITUTE i JACKSON, * GEORGIA, Spring Term Begins = - =. : = Tuesday, Jan. Ist, ’95. ARh just closing the most Successful term *in the history of the* School. The growth of the School lias been phenomenal. Within three years the number of teachers has been doubled. Advantages isa. MTJSIC and AET TJaes o#lle& by -any School. Dr. A. J. Battle, President of Shorter Female College, Rome, recognizing the higo character and efficient work of the School, has offered a Scholarship to the graduate of Jackson Institute making the highest mark for the } ear. Prof. 0. C. Cox, Pr si dent Southern Female College, La Grange, says: H consider Jacksonlnstitute one of the tlnee best schools in the state.” For Catalogue or other Information, address J as. C. BIASINCAMB. 1895.