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NEWNAN HERALD & ADVERTISER VOL. XLIV. NEWNAN, GA., FRIDAY, MAY 7, 1909. NO. 32. TAKE WARNING! II All stock feed is high, and going higher. Everybody «hould sow Sorghum and Peas. In Sorghum seed we have “EARLY AMBER,” “ORANGE” and “RED TOP.” I Try some of our Alfalfa ground feed. It is cheaper and better than Corn or Oats. •[ We have a fresh stock of International Stock and Poultry Powders. * Medicated Salt Brick-—-the best physic for rundown •stock. Takes the place of salt, and is always ready, as you only have to place the brick in your horse-trough. II Chicken Teed—we have it, and CORNO is the best. 11 Cotton Seed Meal, Shorts and Bran. *1 Four thousand pounds best Compound Lard at best price. T. G. FARMER & SONS CO. Come, Let Us Show You Through C OME, let us show you through our new building and see what an immense stock of goods we have. On the first floor, as you enter from Court Square, we have our dry goods depart ment, where we carry at all seasons one of the largest stocks of goods in the city, consisting of Shoes, Slippers, Hats, Caps, Dress Goods of all kinds, Clothing, Overalls, Crockery, Shirts, Hosiery, Underwear, etc. C.After showing you through this department, we go into the Buggy Emporium, where we sell two of the best- known buggies—and both made in Georgia. These are the “White Star,” made by the Atlanta Buggy Co., and the Jackson G. Smith Barnesville Buggy. We keep from twenty-five to thirty-five bug gies on hand all the time, and are glad to show them. In this de partment we also have harness of all kinds, at prices to suit every one. C.Next, we carry you to the Grocery Department, where you will see the largest stock of heavy groceries to be found in a retail store. Here we can supply you at all times with Oats, Hay, Bran. Lard, Meat, Flour, Salt, Sugar, Coffee, Corn, and everything in Groceries. C.Come to see us and let us show you through. We will be glad for you to visit us. A SONG OP SPUING. The happy birds are flinging On every bush and tree, And budding, sweet wild roses Tempt every honey-bee. Young leaves of green, so tender, On every twig and bough, And rocked by every zephyr That haunts the woodland now. In far off fields and meadows Spring tiny shoots of grain. Anil soft the sunshine glimmers Through long, long threads of rain. The noisy brooks are flowing In music* glad and free. And sweet the balmy south wind Is traveling o’er the sea. The happy earth beguiles us With smile, and then with tear: We join in all this gladness Spring, happy spring, is here. THE OLD LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE. * * H. C. ARNALL MDSE. CO. * Many years ago an old log school- house stood near the roadside in the gap of a certain ridge, and virgin oaks with gnarled and twisted branches, which for possibly centuries had bid defiance to wind and rainstorms, cast a grateful shade over this hallowed edi fice. Down below the road in the gorge was the babbling brook and the stately beech trees, whose bark had been carved by the blades of Barlow knives with uncouth letters and childish names, which some son of the future svill decipher, recall the hands that wrought them, and remember that they have returned to dust, and that the names on those beeches have been chis eled upon the surface of cold and un romantic gravestones. Although the stretch of years lie between that time and this, memory scans the scene as if it were a pageant of yesterday. The recollection of the old school-house and the hoys and girls who daily met there is as “soft as song and as pure as prayer.” The old building has been torn down and its logs built into a blacksmith shop where farmers get their horses shod and their bull-tongue plows sharpened. The four walls that once held the school children now house a blazing forge, and the clang of the anvil rings beneath the rafters that once sheltered the youth of a past generation. How can we ever forget this old school, and how we used to punch the daubing from the cracks beneath the logs so that we might peep from the narrow sphere upon the passerby, the birds, the trees, and the great blue sky that tenderly draped the fleecy clouds that wafted on its horizon. Can we forget the times when we saw the teacher’s back was turned, how we tried our marksmanship in flipping pa per balls against the ceiling which we had chewed from leaves torn from the blueback speller over in the neighbor hood of “incomprehensibility” and "immaterially?” Can we forget how we used to puncture the cosmos of some little fellow with the point of a pin who had leaned over the top of his rude desk to whisper to some one on the bench just in front? Can we ever forget what we learned in the old blue-back speller, or how we lined un in recitation to spell “baker, shady, lady, tidy,” or how we read in a declamatory voice such sentences as “Ann can spin flax,” or the thrilling story of “Old Dog Tray” and the bad boy in the farmer’s anple tree? Can we forget the lizards that ran along the logs of the building or the snakes that peeped at us through the cracks of the puncheon floor? During session the school-room buzzed like bees in a hive, as we whispered in tongues and spoke in gibberage, and sometimes the teacher caught on to some of our an tics, got “riled,” and then it was the dogwood sprout hissed and cackled as it met its counterpart in a thick jeans coat lined with plaid of lindsey yellow, green and red. As a rule the teacher boarded around at the homes of the different pupils, yet he was held in such reverence that a frown from him was more feared than a daddy’s threat. We notched the benches with our knives and cut our sweetheart’s name in big capital letters on our desk tops, and pulled the rubbers from our gal luses to flip at lazy flies and thus while away the tedious hours. We were always ready to jump when the dinner hour was announced, and I with a flopped wool hat in one hand j and a hunk of bread and butter or pie j in the other we sallied forth to the ; playground to play ball. The hat we usually used was a paddle, and the ball was made from yarn obtained from a I raveled out stocking-leg which our grandma had knit, and was covered j with leather from the top of a hoot | whose lower-half had seen better days. | Some of the little shavers, not big enough to play hall games, would play “frog in the mill-pond,” or mumble the peg, while the girls swung in the grapevine swing or played “William may trim a toe.” Mirth and laughter went hand in hand, and when the stern master ended our frolics with his sol emn summons “To Books!” it was a lusty bunch of youngsters, with pant ing breath, glowing cheeks and danc ing eyes that resumed the afternoon studies. Those glorious days now are over, and those boys and girls are men and women. Some of them are not with us any more, but somewhere out beyond the evening star, in the blessed isles of we know not where, they rest in that sweet, harmonious eternity which is promised to the pure in heart. Be Tender to the Motherless Girl. Lottio Alto Weir in Now Orleans States. You, mothers of growing girls, can you not find in the circle of your daughter’s friends some slip of a girl that death has robbed of a mother's care? A young girl without a mother to help her float her cargo of young hopes is a pathetic sight. She is like some delicate plant left to the tender mercy of the chilling wind, without the protecting shelter of the green-house. It is distressing to lose a child, but it is doubly sad for a child to lose its mother. Who can smooth over the rough places like a mother? Who will make the loving sacrifices of denial? Who will excuse shortcom ings. like a mother? God pity the young girl deprived of this watchful care. Yet there are some women, them selves mothers of daughters, who are ever ready to criticise and comment on mistakes and indiscreet acts committed by these motherless young things. Most young girls are thoughtless, and so full are they of the wine of youth and the joy of living, that they are of ten prone to acts of innocent folly. The wise mother counsels and re strains and trains the silly fledglings, but who does all this for the mother less girl? Or, should someone else take upon herself this task, are the same wise measures employed? Is there compre hending love and sympathy that the mother gives? And how often is the young girl res tive under the chiding of another when she would submit gracefully to the same Coming from her mother? And when the motherless girl goes out into the workaday world, how do men act towards her? Do they not, too, take advantage of her innocent ig norance? There are men, themselves the hoary - headed fathers of protected young daughters, who are only too ready to help start some young girl a do uwaril path. It is so easy to dazzle these foolish, imprudent young things. Youth is a time of pleasure and amusement, and girls grasp so readily at enjoyment. It seems so hard to be deprived of joy when one is young. Automobile rides, lunches, matinee tickets, are only some of the guises made use of by the tempter. It all seems so innocent, when there is no mother to warn. And it is only after the girl has been ensnared in her ignorance, that she realizes the hitter result of her folly. U, woman of maturer age, if you know any of these motherless young girls, seek them out and give to them your love and sympathy. Treat them as you would wish your daughter to be treated if perchance God had taken you to Himself. Help them to get some of the pleas ures of youth. Girls love pretty clothes, and if you can sew, it will not take you long to fashion some dainty gar ment for their wearing. And above all let them feel that somebody loves and takes an interest in their lives. And men, if there be ever a day of reckoning, it will surely come to the one who takes advantage of innocent, ignorant, motherless young girlhood. There are many black crimes, but the blackest of all is the murder of a young girl's soul. It may be true that in after years the woman becomes the tempter, but the first sin is always because of the man. So let us all be tender and helpful with these innocent, ignorant daugh ter in the May-time of life. The Fain Made Her Faint. “For almost four years I had a sore on my leg,” says Mrs. Olive Hurd, of Madison, N. H , “and this spring a doctor healed it up. I felt line for about a month but had to be on mv feet a good deal and above mv knee came a swelling as big as my fist. It hung down and was as red as if it had bee i blistered and so sore that I could hardly get around. The cords of my lezs seemed to be stiff and the pain was so bad at times that it made me Rich; No Time for Children. Boston Herald. “Talk about the need for play in structors in the play grounds for the children of the poor!” said the leader of a fashionable kindergarten, “I tell you there’s a real need for play in structors for the children of the weal thy. You sometimes read in tract literature about the neglected children of the rich, hut 1 never believed it un til I took up work there in the ex tremely exclusive kindergarten. “Only the other day a little fellow was brought to us. and all our teachers took turns repeating nursery rhymes to him the whole day without finding a single thing he knew. That small boy had never heard in all his life of ‘Moth er Goose’ or Mack, the Giant Killer,’ or any of the fairy tale classics of childhood. “As a matter of course we have to teach our pupils, hoys and girls alike, to tell time. Their busy parents have not taken the pains to show thorn how. Quite regularly we find children even up to (i years old who can’t read a clock face. “Sometimes the home affairs take on a humorous shape. One little girl al ways dropped her reading hook in the snow and mud, till wc told her that she ought to get her 'mamma to cover it. ‘Well, I'll see what I can do.’ answered the world-weary tot of 7, ‘hut ’tvvon’t do any good. Mamma’s never at home, and Susan (her mother’s maid) says she has all she can do mending mam ma’s clothes without picking up after me.’ “However, there’s one thing I’d like to add,” finished the lady instruc tor to the neglected children of the rich, “and that is, that these mothers I’ve told you of are neither club women or suffragists, hut are in al most every case bridge whist ’ fiends. Anyone who thinks l exaggerate the situation can lend her services in my school for a week and see for herself.” You and Your Boy. Christine Terhune Herrick In Circle Magazine. I have never been one to feel that the best love was won from a child by extreme indulgence. In fact, I hold that the contrary is the rule. Observ ing the families of my contemporaries and predecessors, it is borne in upon me that the most indulged children have not been the most devoted to their fathers and mothers. On the contrary, having had the happiness to be associa ted with several households where strict obedience has always been de manded and received, I feel justified in declaring that the families where discipline is observed are those whose children are most affectionate. Be it noted that strictness does not mean harshness or severity. It does stand for reasonable rules positively enforced, for commands which must be obeyed, and, above all, it should stand for justice. Were I asked to put in a word the most desirable quality in dealing with hoys, or with girls, either, for that matter, I would put “justice” first. It would not he a synonym for hardness, although this is a meaning often allied to it. It would mean obedience to or ders and penalties when orders were disobeyed, hut it would mean also an appreciation of the child’s standpoint, an almost agonizing care that he should not be punished without ade quate cause, a rigid adherence to promise of reward as well as of re buke, an understanding of what led to this or that course of action which from an adult’s viewpoint may seem inexplicable. There may be well brought up chil dren who resent q just punishment. I have never known them. BiSt I have found injustice of reproof or of penalty resented with a bitterness which left its mark for years afterward. Perfectly Passive. Everybody’s Magazine. “Jed Blake to the bar,” ordered the Judge in a rural Alabama court. A big, hulking negro ambled up to be ar raigned for murder. “Jed,” said the Judge, “you are charged with the gravest crime known to the law—that of taking the life of a fellow-man. One of the forms of pun ishment for murder is death. Have you made any arrangements for your defense in this case, Jed?” “No, suh, Jedge. I ain’t done noth in’.” “Have you a lawyer, Jed?” “No. suh, Jedge. 1 ain’t got no law yer. 1 ain’t got nuthin’, Jedge.” “Well, Jed,” said the Judge a little impatiently, “have you talked to any body about this case?” “I talked to de sheriff some dat night when he come atter me, Jedge, but you knows dat didn’t do no good.” “For your information, Jed, I will state that it is within the province of this court to appoint counsel to any defendant who has none. I am now ready to appoint you’a lawyer. Do you want one?” “No, suh, Jedge, 1 don’ want nuth in’,” replied the negro rather dolefully. “See here,” snapped the Judge, “I won’t have any more of this foolish ness. You say you don’t want any law yer. Well, then, what do you intend to do about this case?” “Well, 1 tells you, Jedge, I ain’t ’tendin’ to do nuthin’. Ef it’s jes’ de same to you, Jedge, I’s willin’ to let de whole matter drap right here.” His Priceless Half-Dollar. Franklin (Ky.) Favorite. “When the Confederacy fell I sur rendered at Shreveport, La., and was absolutely penniless, a stranger in a strains land, among a strange people,” said Haroy D. Wade, known to every body in Simpson county, and one of the leading and most beloved men of Franklin. “In order to satisfy a gnaw ing appetite I sold the only coat. Then possessed, receiving therefor two sil ver half-dollars. With one I purchased food and here is the other. The thought struck me that as the great cause for which 1 had fought had failed it be hooved me to at once set about the work of making a desirable citizen in the land of my birth, and concluding thut if I could get home by the aid of only .70 ceil .s I could also arrivu with out using it. I determined to mak** this effort, and I reached Franklin with the half-dollar in my pocket, and in an effort to get a start in the world I underwent some very trying expe riences, hut at no time during the darkest hour of my poverty and diss tress did I ever consent to part with the half-dollar which came to me by the sale of my last coat at a time when desolation and despair were the only possessions of a Confederate soldier,” Once there was a Pretty Woman who came upon a Huge Ostrich in the des ert. “Foolish bird.” said the Pretty Wo man, “you cover your head with sand and think you are out of sight.” The Huge Ostrich laughed. “My dear madam,” he chuckled, “there is nothing foolish about that. Don’t you cover your head with a hat decorated with my feathers and think you are ‘out of sight?’ ” Moral: The ostrich is an awkward bird and eats horse shoes, but he can hit (jack in other ways beside with his big feet. faint. “Dne of my neighbors told me about A summer visitor who was trying a Sloan’s Liniment, so I got a bottle and horse, the property of a New Hamp- put some right on. Next morning 1 shire farmer, with a view to buying Late one afternoon a newly-made doctor daHhed into the room of his legal friend, exclaiming, “Great luck, old man ! Congratulate me ! Got a patient at last! On my way to see him now!” Whereupon the legal light - to - be slapped his friend on the back, saying: “Delighted, old chap!” Then, after a slight pause, he added with a sly grin : “I say, let me go with you. Perhaps he hasn’t made his will.” Do You Think Or. In novel of i pain and suH you that ther For Yourself ? you open your mouth like a young gulp down whatever food or modl- ma\bc offered you 1 * * * * n Intelligent thinking woman, from weakness, nervousness, ng, then It means much to '»« tried and true hone-,!, medicine nr -itamem sold by druggists for Ihe cure of womans Ills. •h + + S’ S’ The makers of Dr. Pierce's Favorite Pro- acrlptlon. for the cure of weak, nervous, run down. over-worked, debilitated, pain-racked women, knowing this medicine to he made up of Ingredients, every one of which has the strongest possible Indorsement of the leading and standard authorities of the several schools of practice, are perfectly willing, and In fact, are only too glad to print, as they do, the formula, or list of Ingredients, of which It Is composed, in plain English, on every bottle-wrapper. t + + + + The formula ot Dr. Pierce's Favorite Pro scription will hear the most critical examina tion of medical experts, for It contains no alcohol, narcotics, harmful, or habit-forming drugs, and no agent enters Into it that Is not highly recommended by the most advanced and leading medical teachers and author ities of their several schools of practice, authorities recommend the Ingredient* iTT rite Presrrlpti for i ; could walk ever so much batter, anti i kept right on using the Liniment night \ anti morning. It took down all the j swelling, and the redness and soreness j are all gone too. I shall never he with out Sloan’s Liniment in the house again and will recommend it to all sut uring friends.” He had appealed to the doctor for aid. | “Do you stammer all the time?” | asked the man of science. ”N-n-n-no,” he sputtered. “I only [ st-st-st-stammer when I t-t-t-talk.” him, noticed that after driving a few miles the animal pulled very hard, re quiring a firm hand and constant watching. “Do you think this is just the horse for a lady to drive?” he in quired doubtfully. “Well.” answered the owner, with an air of great candor, “I must say I shouldn’t really want to be the hus band of the woman who could drive that horse. ” JXliLEo. T t‘J• * 1 IneUlcInc Is advised. ' + t + * * No other medicine for woman's Ills has any such professional endorsement as Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription has received, in the un- qualllled recommendation of each of Its several Ingredients by scores of leading medi cal men of all the schools of x>racilce. I* such an endorsement not worthy of your consideration ? + + + + + A booklet of Ingredients, with numerous authoratlve professional endorsements by tha leading medical authorities of this country, will he mailed frte. to uny one sending name and addruss with request for same. Address Dr. U. V. Pierce. Buffalo. N. Y.