Ordinary'fl Office
THE HERALD AND ADVERTISER
VOL. XLIV.
NEWNAN, GA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1.908.
NO. 13.
Ladies’ Coats
and Jackets.
We have made up our mind to sell
what we have, and will make
prices to move them.
Regular price S3.50, now $2.48
Regular price^$4.00, now $2.98
Regular price $6.00, now $3.98
Regular price $8.00, now $4.98
Regular price $9.00, now $5.98
Regular price $12.50, now $6.98
Regular price $13.50, now $8.98
Also, job lot children’s Cloaks, to be sold at
50 per cent, off regular prices.
Overcoats at Cut Prices.
Regular price $5.00, now $3.48,
Regular price $6.00, now $3.98
Regular price $10.00, now $6.48
Regular price $12.50, now $7.48
Regular price $15.00, now $8.98
Also, some extra bargains in men’s suits and pants. If
you need anything in this line you cannot afford
to miss the opportunity.
Some Extra Winter Coats for Men.
We have some Bed Comforts (or quilts) to close
at a price that will prove comfortable to all
purchasers.
T. G. Farmer & Co.
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Heating Stoves.
The most complete line in New
nan. Prices from $1.50 to $15.
Cook Stoves.
Fifty new ones just in, and the
prices are the lowest we have of
fered in two years.
Axes.
Thirty-five dozen Kelly’s best
Axes. The quality of these can’t
be improved. They are the best.
Hardware.
10 dozen Coal Scuttles, 25c. to
40c. each.
20,000 Bolts. Can furnish any
length. 1,000 Plow Bolts. Have
them for nearly all plows.
400 Cotton Collars. Can fit your
mule.
400 pairs Hutcheson Plow Lines.
Three dozen Boy Wagons.
Thirty - five Pistols — all kinds,
good and bad. |
Oliver Chilled Plows. |
If you don’t see what yo\i want, 9
call for it. g
Kirby-Bohannon Hardware 1
Company, ’Pohne 201 ■
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A SONG OF CHRISTMAS.
Sing: a song; of Christmas, with the tingle in the
»ir,
And mistletoe nnd holly and the berries every
where;
Sfng it in a cadence that will show it measures
start
In the happy tilting of the beating of your
heart-
Sing, and see a picture of the stockings in a row.
Casting swaying shadows in the light of long
ago.
Ho, the song of Christmas! Of all carols ’tls the
beet,
For it springs in gladness from the music in your
breast;
Rises from the knowledge that the world is good
to you.
Gets its joydUB measures from the good you mean
to >!■
Mellowest and tenderest of all tho songs you
know.
Built upon the golden gleams from out the long
ago.
Sing a song of Christmas; sing the glory of the
Btar,
Flinging down its wondrous beams upon the
lands afar;
Catch the echo of the chant the waking shepherds
heard
When from the sky there fell each unforgotton
word— <
Yes, and sing the memory of all the olden glow
From the embers in the grato this long and long
ago.
Ho, the song of Christmas! It is yours and it is
mine;
Out of heart-held memories we make it fair and
fine.
And we breathe the lasting faith that all the
world is good
When we time the hearts that beat again in
brotherhood—
Sing it softly, sing it in a cadence soft or slow,
When your sighs and smiles are blent in thoughts
of long ago.
Christmas Reading.
All is not joy at the happy Yuletide.
People who have the reading: habit
must perforce read Christmas books,
Christmas magazines and Christmas
poems. The only good purpose served
by the majority of these is like unto
that achieved by the martyr who dons
a hair-shirt for the mortification of the
flesh.
Of course those old-time effects,
“ ’Twas the Night Before Christmas,”
and “Hang up the Baby’s Stocking,”
bob up serenely from a twelve month’s
enfoiced retirement, and are prattled
by “cute” little things in the parlor,
leading to a warfare between courtesy
and truth on the part of the neighbors.
Then the Christmas reading, like nil
Gaul, is divided into parties, prose,
Doetry and piffle, the last embracing
the first two. The Christmas carol
consists of modern courtesy and truth
on the part of the thoughts in modern
spelling, usually containing some allu
sion to "God wot.” or "merrye gentyl-
mene.” The Christmas story deals
with the bachelor who sits before the
fire and mourns that Millie was too
wise to wed him in the days of old.
The common or garden variety of holi
day yarn also rings the actions of the
wealthy guy who, mourning because
there is no little stocking waving in
the warm air of the radiator, goes out
to find some prissy pauper who, per
force. becomes the victim of his bene
factions.
These are the grown-up stories. The
children’s stories are about the little
lad or lassie who goes to bed hungry,
and stockingless, to wake up with a
tummy full of gruel and a stocking full
of toys. Just the opposite to this is
the wealthy youngster with a 40-horse
oower automobile who envies the poor
little chap with an ancient wooden
hobby horse. In real life the rich kid
is mad because his little neighbor has
a 60-horse power eight-cylinder ma
chine.
Then again there are the articles by
explorers about “Christmas among the
Yippy-yaps,” by the travelers about
“Christmas Dinner on Mount Zion,”
etc., etc. Nor are we allowed to es
cape the Christmas reunion of two silly
young hearts, or the pseudo-religious
story full of fake piety.
If some gifted pencil-pilot would
come along and write a little Christ
mas literature that reflected the real
spirit of the day he would receive the
thanks of the weary and discerning
reader, but might not suit the palate
of those who have so long fed on piffle-
pabulum that they really like it.
Ghost hunting bids fair to become
the ruling passion of Washington so
ciety. The fortunate owners of a
peaked house, roped with ivy and
densely surrounded by trees, are issu
ing cards for a Christmas specter hunt.
The Christmas ghost hunt is imported
from England, where the houses are
ancient enough to harbor specters who
were there before William the Con
queror. The comparative newness of
this country leads some to predict that
the fad over here will fail. There are
exceptions, however, for even in Wash
ington there is one of the treasure
guarding ghosts—an out-and-out buc
caneer ot the Spanish main variety with
cocked hat, gold lace, ruffles, high yel
low boots, red jacket and an odor of
antiquity. Those acquainted with him
say that he links his chains of Btolen
doubloons.—Washington Star.
Here is Relief for Women.
If you have pains in the back. Urina
ry. Bladder or Kidney trouble, and
want a certain, pleasant herb cure for
woman’s ills, try Mother Gray’s Aus-
tralian-Leaf. It is a safe and never-
failing regulator. At Druggists er bv
mail 50c. Sample package FREE. Ad
dress. The Mother Gray Co., LeRoy,
N. Y.
It doesn’t make a singer’s tones clear
to strain her voice.
House Decorating at Christmas
Time.
Philadelphia Public Ledger.
There is no time when an attractively
decorated table makes a stronger ap
peal than on Christmas day, and no time
when the girl of ideas can get bettor
effects. A brilliant display can be
made at little cast, and a hostess is
well repaid for her efforts in the pleas
ure of her guests.
If one has a family dinner from year
to year it is well to think up something
new each time to make the table at
tractive. 'It is not enough to use a
small bit of holly or a bunch of red
flowers as a centerpiece and think your
duty done; the most gorgeous bunch
of poinsettia will not give as much
pleasure as would a touch of novelty at
half the cost.
A simple centerpiece could be made
by covering the largest gas globe with
white cotton batting, and set in a
wreath of holly like a giant snowball.
Fill the globe with a small gift for
each guest, and from the top have-
sprigs of holly, mistletoe or sprays of
red berries.
Attached to each gift should be a
narrow bow of red ribbon extending
to the plate of each guest. The ribbon
can be tied around the neck of a strut
ting turkey filled with candy and used
as a place card. At the close of the
meal each guest pulls her ribbon and
drawsisut a gift.
Scattered around the table can be
sm$)ftdishes of” cakes and candy set in
beds of holly, to which extra berries
are tied to give a more vivid tone. The
four candles or the branching candela
bra can have shades of bright red paper
under the cut silver frames, if one
owns them; or paper shades can lie
made in a blunt wedge shape, with
sprays of holly or poinsettia painted on
each of the four sides.
A decoration that w»ould give much
pleasure to children would be to cover
a dish-pan with greens, fill it with small
gifts and on the top, as on a nest, have
a huge goose sitting.
This goose can he made of enrdboard
and covered with cotton batting. The
bill is painted u bright yellow, and shoe
buttons are stuck in for eyes. At
tached to each gift should be a string
of evergreen leading to a plate and
ending in a gay place card.
A Chrstr-.as tree centerpiece, while
not especially novel, is always popular
and highly decorative if covered with
small gift bailsand tinsel. It is showy,
with no more costly trimimings than
rings of red paper sewed together or
strings of popcorn and old-fashioned
red and white mint drops.
Mexico’s Christmas Eve.
Christmas in Mexico lasts for nine
days, ending with Christmas eve. They
are described as “the nine days’ wan
derings,” being symbolical of the wan
derings of the Virgin Mary and Joseph
in search of shelter prior to the birth
of Jesus.
One custom is to have nine families
of friends or relatives take part in
this quaint observance. Each family
entertains in turn for one evening all
the others. Both adults and children
participate in the wanderings. Arriv
ing at a house, they apply at the door
of each room for shelter, which is re
fused by those within. Finally all are
admitted into the largest room, where
refreshments of cold meats, cakes and
wine are served. In many instances
the children are garbed in fanciful cos
tumes.
The last night of the wandering^,
Christmas eve, means to Mexican chil
dren what the gathering of Christmas
tree fruit means to the children of the
United States, though there is no
Christmas tree. There is instead the
pinata, otherwise a human figure made
of tough paper and suspended from the
ceiling. Sometimes there is an olla or
earthenware pot similarly susnended.
One child is blindfolded, turned
around a few times and invited to break
the pinata with a cane or rod. Three
strokes are permitted, and it usually
happens that the cane hits only impal
pable air. After an hour or so of fail
ures somebody hfts the pinata a smart
blow, and the legs and trunk of the
grotesque figure spilt open. Down
to the floor, in scattering confusion, fall
the Christmas presents with which the
funny figure was stuffed. Then there
is a merry scramble for the “favors.”
The one who succeeded in breaking the
ninata or the olla gets a special pres
ent and is placed in the seat of honor
for the evening.
Angelina—“Since papa has forbidden
Tom the house we have arranged a
code of signals.”
Emily—“What is it?”
Angelina—“When he waves his hand
kerchief five times, that means ‘Do you
love me?’ And when I wave frantical
ly in reply it means ‘Yes. darling.’ ”
Emily—“And how do you ask other
questions?”
Angleina — “We don’t. That’s the
whole code.”
Thoughts for Christmas.
Dawson News.
“The time draws near the birth of
Christ.” The Yuletide with its joys and
pleasures, its “dance nnd song and game
and jest, ” is almost come. And well it is
that this festival of sweetness nnd light
appears so surely and ineyitably, for in
its train are pence, good will and char
ity. casting always a ray of hope and
faith upon many a drear, desolate and
despairing existence.
And yet there is another aspect, one
too sadly overlooked—nil aspect for
seriousness, lit for thoughtful contem
plation. On Christmas eve one was
born into this world to “justify the
ways of God to man,” and though it
may be very well to celebrate His com
ing we have, in our headlong fashion
and careless habit, forgotten the sn-
credness of the occasion, and made it
largely one of foulness and carousal.
The columns of the press on Christmns
morn and n few days following are, al
most as a matter of course, filled with
horrifying accounts of murders, deaths
and homicides, with sickening details
of drunkenness and vileness, of vice
and crime gone rampant. The sit
uation affords an awful anomaly of a
holiday most religious observed in a
manner most irreligious.
That the flesh is weak, we understand.
That the world has not yet reached the
high point of civilization when men
will not require the satisfaction of their
coarse and sensual desires, we honestly
believe. But that, for this reason,
we should desecrate the holiest of days,
and drench the holly and the laurel
wreath with the contents of the wassail
bowl we most vehemently deny.
To eat, to drink, to sleep, is not to
live; it is to exist on a level with the
fish and the swine. There is an ele
ment of thought, of meditation, in the
lines—
“Devout nnd pure.
Sobor, Hteudfast and demure,"
without which life is the empty shell—
the pearl within has been withdrawn.
And when the work of Christ is under
consideration the effect should he that
of grave cheerfulness and quiet pleas
ure, and not of frantic deeds and acts.
Let us hope that witli the coming
day a clearer vision will be cuught,
when men will see how soon the ban
quet cup is drained and realize the
value of calm reflection. Then, and
only then, will the merry bells of Yule
“Rimr in tho valiant man, and free,
Tho Iururor heart, tho kindllor hand;
King out tho darkness of the land,
Ring: in the Christ that is to be."
A Christmas Editorial.
December Circle Magazine.
Right must ever light its way against
the world. Truth must walk alone in
its Gethsemane. Justice must bravely
face itH Calvary, if it would still live
in triumph after all efforts to slay it.
These great truths must be born in the
manger of poverty, or sorrow, or trial,
or suffering, finding no room at the inn
until at last, entering it in triumph,
they honor the inn that never honored
them in their hours of need, or strug
gle, and of darkness. It is written in
the book of human nature; it is the
chorus of the songs of every great hu
man effort; it epitomizes the life of
Christ.
There comes a time in every individ
ual life when earnest, honest effort,
disheartened, distressed. dismayed,
says: ‘‘What is the use of it all? Why
should I suffer poverty, sorrow, loneli
ness and failure, when I seek to he
fair, good, kind, sympathetic, helpful
and just? Why should I not have the
good things I long for?”
They are big questions : they are the
very sobs of the soul. But if we know
we are right we should care naught for
the crowd at the inn. It must be that
there is something higher in life than
the welcome at the inn, the approval of
the world. There is the consciousness
of the work well done, of steadfast loy
alty to the ideal, of faithfulness in lit
tle things, of lives made sweeter,
truer, better for our living, of a love-
light in eyes looking into ours that may
be part of the glorious flowering of our
days greater far to our highest self
than any mere welcome at the inn.
True living brings peace to the soul,
fiber to character, kingship over self,
inspiration to others, but not necessa
rily money and material prosperity.
These have their proper place and
their use, bat they are not the highest,
[f they were the highest, candidates
for heaven could be selected purely by
‘‘double A” BraUstreet ratings; they
would he taken ever from the crowded
inn. not the lonely manger. At the inn
they inquire: “Will it pay? Is it pop
ular? Is it successful?” At the man
ger they ask : “Is it right? Is it true?
Is it helpful?”
A professor was reproving a student
for his idleness, when the latter said:
“It’s no use finding fault; I was aut
out for a loafer.”
“Well,” replied the professor, sur
veying him critically from head to foot,
“whoever cut you out understood his
business thoroughly.”
That Christmas.
Ruttinnld Wright Kauffman in Circle Magazine.
Every year you children had seen the
busy little mother, who was then so
tall and beautiful, baking tremendous
armies of small cakes for u week be
fore the twenty-fifth, and every year,
all the Christmas morning long, the
poor of the town—don’t you remember
them?—would come to the kitchen door
in u steady stream, and thence in a
steady stream depart, cooky-laden. Ev
ery year, after the Christmas break
fast, you would go, with a quick ‘‘Mer
ry Christmas” on your lips for whom
soever you met, to the houses of your
cousins and your friends, your arms
full of gifts for them when you started
and your arms full of gifts from them
when you returned. And every year
there was the Christmas morning in the
church, with the holly and the laurel
and the glad fnces smiling, the glad
eyes shining, and the glad voices blend
ing—for then everybody sang or frank
ly tried to sing the hymns—in the an
cient strains that bid all faithful feet
to Bethlehem.
Whut was the first thing that struck
you on entering your own home? Don’t
you remember that? What, indeed—as
your father unlocked and flung wide
the big front door—but the wonderful
doors of the Christmas dinner? Turkey
nnd cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes,
nnd onions stewed in cream, white
grapes, and nuts and raisins—however
the non-essentinls varied, these things
were always there.
Christmas! Alas, there comes a day
in life when all anniversaries are the
grny antithesis of what they once were;
when they serve not so much as guide-
posts pointing to the gold-capped sum
mit of life as milestones to remind you
how long the journey hus been nnd how
brief it now must be.
Among them ail, those many that you
now remember, one there is that stands
forth in particular, first, because in its
detail it is typical of all that preceded
it. and. second, because in n certain
sense it is the last Christmas that you
will ever know —that Christmas when
you grew up. and Santa Claus died.
The Real Value of Christmas.
IT. Muhla Wright, in December Circle Magazine.
It is relatively a small matter wheth
er men find life easy or hard. It is a
great matter whether they find it worth
while. Men cannot be happy by filling
their pockets ancl stomachs; that is the
way to make them comfortable. To
make them happy you must fill their
minds and hearts. The Roman emperor,
with an inexhaustible cup of pleasure
held at the lips which could only drain a
small goblet, was poor, unhappy, disillu
sioned, compared with the Greek slave.
Epictitus, who knew by what scale of
values to test life. It is an old story
thut things cannot bring men joy; it
was preached long before pulpits were
made; but it has never been more ob
viously and dramatically set forth than
in the columns of the newspapers dur
ing the pust five years. Now this iB
precisely what the Christmas story
does: it makes the spiritual value of
life the presence and power of a divine
idea of life; it sets up a standard of
action which expels from the field the
whole brood of aims, impulses, reflec
tions, and enterprises which destroy
the unity of the great brotherhood of
humanity; it confirms and gives au
thority to the aspirations which are the
very soul of life; it touches the facts
of life with the beauty of transcendent
poetry. On the lowest places, in the
hardest conditions, at makes life radi
ant prophecy. Apart entirely from its
historical value and aside from the au
thority with which, for a host of men
and women, it is clothed, Christmas
has a value beyond computation, be
cause it reinforces the altruistic and
idealistic view of life.
A COMMON ERROR.
The Same Mistake is Made by Many
Newnan People.
It’s a common error
To plaster the aching back,
To rub with liniments rheumatic
joints,
When the trouble comes from the
kidneys.
Doan’s Kidney Pills cure all kidney
ills,
And are indorsed by Newnanjciti-
zens.
Mrs. Jennings, Murray street,
Newnan, Ga., says : “For several years
my husband was bothered by backache
and pains through the loins. During
this time he used many remedies, but
very little improvement was brought
about. Finally someone advised him to
try Doan’s Kidney Pills, and he pur
chased a box at Lee Bro. ’s drug store.
Although he has not used them very
long, his back is much stronger and the
pains have become considerably les
sened. Doan’s Kidney Pills have done
more for him than all the other reme
dies he ever used, and he heartily rec
ommends them.”
For sale by all dealers. Price 50
cents. Foster-Mil burn Co., Buffalo,
New York, sole agents for the United
States.
Remember the name—Doan’s—and
take no other.
