Newnan herald & advertiser. (Newnan, Ga.) 1909-1915, December 24, 1909, Image 1

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NEWNAN HERALD & ADVERTISER VOL. XLV. NEWNAN, GA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1909. NO. 13. Good News TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE TO BUY THEIR SUPPLY OF FLOUR CONSOLIDATED BANK STATEMENT Showing the condition and resources of the Banks of Coweta county at the close of business November 16, 1909. BANKS First National Bank, at Nownan Nownan Bnnkir.tr Company, at Newnnn Coweta National Bank, at Ncwnan Manufacturers National Dank. at. Newnan Farmers and Merchants Bank, at Senoia Hank of Kcnoia, at Senoia First National Bnnk of Senoia, at Senoiw Bank of Grantville, at Gruntville .... Moreland Banking: Company, at. Moreland Turin Banking Company, at Turin Bank of Raymond, at Raymond Bank of Haralson, at Haralson RESOURCES. Loans. Bonds. Banking Hours, «tc. Cnsh and in Banks. Total Resourcea. I $333,686 48 : 302.06(5 81 179.875 51 160,616 03 143,643 62 84,543 41 31,726 50 79.683 87 68,492 44 41 493 10 4,421 18 18.170 92 $50,000 00 30,900 00 16,400 00 600 00 $1,000 00 2.08600 3.464 04 3.691 60 4.592 77 6,262 44 4,013 83 404 26 2,868 26 2,658 67 2,880 63 J> 83.360 29 97.090 86 41.916 21 30.468 69 24,616 72 21,317 60 9,919 21 13,328 18 12,188 71 8.747 80 24,974 22 6,964 71 $418,042 72 399,140 97 266,375 72 206.883 76 172.261 841 110,463 84 72,622 43 90,926 88 06,085 43 63,114 16 31,949 07 27,006 26 25,724 28 $1,428,114 62 $122,524 CH $83,396 38 $329,772 78 $1,908.808 06 LIABILITIES. 800 Barrels of Flour, bought, before the last rise in wheat. Tojmove this amount of flour we have decided to •livide our profits with all buyers of flour. SEED OATS.—Texas Rust-Proof Oats, Home-Raised Rust-Proof Appier Oats. SEED WHEAT.—Purple-Straw Seed Wheat. TOBACCO.—"Merry Widow,’’the rich man’s chew at the poor man’s price. SHOES.—Make your feet comfortable during the coming winter by buying apairof "Stronger Than the Law” Shoes for yourself and your boys. And for mother and sister buy our "Virginia Creeper,” “Dixie Girl,” and "High Point.” We have for children the famous W'alton Shoes at popular prices. Car-load Shorts just received. T. G. Farmer & Sons Co. 19 Court Square : : 6 and S W. Washington Telephone H7 H. C. Arnall Mdse. COMPANY Extend the com pliments of the Season, and wish you a happy and prosperous CHRISTMAS HOME WITH M O T H E R Christman in the city, with its Rtrcets of liKht ashine; Christman in the castle, with so many things and fine; Christman in the village, with its neighbors on tho street. And friendship smiling at you from the lipa you love to meet; But Christmas home with mother—you can take away the rest. And give me that for gladness that is tenderest and beat. Christmas home with mother as it used to be. you know. In life’s divine reversion to the dreams of long ago; The old house ringing laughter from the lips of chick anti child. The old dreams dancing after in the hearts just fairly wild. And the romping, ringing revel, and the dinner with its smells Of the old familiar dished with their haunting homespun spells! Turn hack again, oh, marchers in the ranks that lead away From Chrif tmas home with mother to the fields of fame and fray! The triumph may be tempting and the vict’ry fine and sweet; But Christmas hon.c with mother makes the heart forget the street, Aud the roaring world around one, and the i life for the old, And its fanfare and its tinsel and its gilt without the gold. Christmas home with mother—’tls a dream to make one creep To the attic as in childhood for a little childhood sleep; And the waking at her calling, and the marching single file To the Christmas in the parlor with our faces wreathed in smile At the tender expectation—how it glows within us yet— Of the things we said we wanted and the things we knew we’d get! Christmas home with mother—when it’s train time let me know, For my heart has bought a ticket to the days of long ago, And I have lost the city, with its splendor and its gleam. In the Christmas home with mother that bus come to be my dream— The old house ami the childhood, and her sweet face waiting there For the phantom sons and daughters single file upon the Btair! A CHRISTMAS REVERIE. Watson’s Weekly JefTernonian. Christmas is in the air. You can feel it in tho night-time as you hear the chickens wierdly crow, as they do not at any other season. You can feel it in the day-time as you note the loosening of the close-fit ting harness of business and social form; as you listen to the ring of small voices of the eliildren who step more briskly down the street and cluster in more hilarious groups; as you see the tendency of man, the savage, to throw off the light costume of restraint and civilization and to let slip, once more, the lustful inclinations of the original savage. Yes, there’s a feeling of Christmas in the air. What sort of a feeling does that put into your heart, my brother? Does it not melt you to think of the dim years when you were a bright lit tle boy, and when you tiptoed into the parlor at daybreak to see what Santa Claus had put into your stocking? Long before the sun had thought of getting up, you were up—you and your little sister—and into the half dark parlor you went, almost in fear as well as in hope, for the white stockings i hanging stiffly there in the fireplace seemed the leaBt hit ghostly. In that gray dawn how happy you were to empty the stocking and find that, by some mysterious chance, Santa Claus had brought you just what you wanted I Since then has purer joy ever filled l your sun I? Has life given you sweeter moments? No; the exquisite enjoyment of that eany morning is something that provi- , dence never gave to you again. Do you remember the vague pain ! that smote you when you had grown large enough to be told that there was no such benevolent friend of all the little children as Santa Claus? »****»« What was the next great event and happiness of your life? Why, when the sweetheart to whom you had been awkwurdly, timidly, mak ing love let you “cut out” all the other boys, and walk home with her. Weren’t you proud? And wasn’t she pretty? Those clear, pure eyes; those rosy cheeks; those smiling lips; that wealth of glossy hair; those pearly teeth— heavens!—how you worshipped her! coat lapel, your heart beat pit-a-pat, and you held your breath till the dainty boutonniere was fixed. And when you had worn the flower till it had wilted you reverently laid it away in some book, didn’t you? And you have them yet—nor is there gold enough in all the world to buy those faded flowers! After ever so long a time, as you thought- ages it seemed to your im patience,—she said “Yes”—and let you kiss her. Wasn’t that a glorious night? You walked on air as you went back to your home, didn't you? You were in such a state of happy exhilaration that you couldn’t sleep. Are you ashamed to admit that deep down in your heart was a tender thankfulness to the God who had bless ed you with the love of so good a wo man? Ah, well—you were married to her, and you two commenced the upward struggle together. How hard the climb of the hill! What labor there was; what disap pointments; what days of bleak de spondency; what nights of black de spair. In that terrible climb of the hill, did you neglect your wife? Did you fail of that tender considera tion that was her due? Did you sometimes bring your cloud ed face and soured mind to the fireside and morosely impose your own suffer ings ^jtpon her? Were those sweet lips made to tremble in mute pain?—those fond eyes to shed secret tears? Happy the husband who can say, “I never did.” Wretch that I could not. After awhile children came to you. Then were renewed the delights of Christmas eve and Christmas morning. To settle upon what should be bought for the children’s stockings; to smug gle these selections into the house; to watch the little ones hang up their stockings; to hear their guesses and speculations as to what Santa Cluus will bring me; so and so; and then, af ter they had cuddled down and were sound asleep—do you remember how you and your wife went back into the room where the stockings hung? There was pleasure in it—and yet there was sadness, too. It was late in the night when you were acting Santa Claus for your little ones, and it was time for sober thoughts. Would next ChristmaH eve find all the stockings hung? Would these merry voices mingle in the hubbub over the gifts of Santa Claus, and would three happy faces shine as they came running to you with: “See what Santa Claus brought me!” Or, upon next Christmas eve would you be sitting alone by the dying fire, racked with a pain that would never, never lose its power to torture—because upon this Christmas eve there are but two? The years pass, pass, pass—and now you're on the western slope of the hill. The wife who climbed tho hill with you is still at your side. No matter who else failed you, she did not. No matter who else found fault with you, she never did. If ever she spoke to you unkindly, or served you reluctantly, or fell short of perfect wife ly devotion, you did not realize it. How can you reward this noble wife? Will you not prove to her that you appreciate her? Will you not bring to her that splen did loyalty which a proud woman prizes more highly than a miser prizes gold? In word, in thought, in deed, will you not be as true to her as she has been to you? Will you not prove by the unfailing tenderness with which you minister to her happiness now the depth of your re morse for your shortcomings in those early years? Will you not call back the spirit of But perhaps you are of another sort. Perhaps you think all this very silly. Maybe the softening touch of the Christmas time softens nothing in you. I pray God it may not be so. For your sake as well as your wife’s, listen: The only human being that you can absolutely count on to stand by you, in spite of the world, the Hesh and the devil, is your wife. Children will grow up and pass on ward—out of your life and into one of their own. Relatives and friends may go with you a long way, but they will not go all the way. Your wife will. In all the universe, you can’t be sure of anyone hut her. Then make the most of her. Are her cheeks faded? Kiss her on the lips, and then see the roses blossom once more on those cheeks. Have her eyes been swollen and dim with tears? Put your arms about her and tell her you love her just as much as you ever did. Then watch the light of joy kindle in those eyes till they sparkle as brightly as ever. Ah, it is so easy to make n woman happy if the right man wants to do it. And tho right man to make your wife happy is you. Think of the nights when you were sick unto death, and she nursed you; think of the fearful agonies of the birth hour when she brought your children into the world; think of the long-drawn years in which she has daily done the drudgery of a slave; think how she has had to bear the cross of your troubles am—I as well as her own; think of what she lias had to go through with in the rear ing of your children; think of her cramped, dull and monotonous life at home while you were mingling with the bustling crowds of the outside world. Think of all this, brother, and allow much for the jaded, faded wife. Go to her tod warm your own heart, aR well as hors, by talking to her in the old, old way of lovers. Court her again, as you courted her when you were both young. Tell her she’s just as pretty as ever. This may possibly not be the truth; but, if a lie at all, it will be the whitest one you ever told. The recording angel may feel in duty bound to charge it up on the debit side of your account, but as he washes it out afterwards with a tear he will enter an item to your credit on tho other side of the ledger, and he will write it in letters of gold. Failure of the Thonasville Paper. Amwlrua Tinuw-Roc'ordar. The recent failure of the Thomasville Times-linterprine, now being conduct ed under tne auspices of a receiver pending a sale of the property, is worthy of more than passing comment. For a number of years the Times- Enterprise wus conducted by Col. .John Triplett. It wna doubtless n matter of hard work and wise economizing to keep the paper above the waves at many times, hut Col. Triplett managed to do so for a long period and to make its influence felt to a considerable ex tant in his home county and those adja cent to it. Col. Triplett withdrew from journalism several years ago. and since then the paper haB been in other hands. In recent yearH the cost of making a newspaper has vastly increased. Tbo demands of the public have become more onerous, more expensive plants have been required by existing condi tions, tho cost of labor has gone stead ily up, as has that of raw paper and other supplies. It is a fairly safe as sertion that it costs thirty per cent, mors to get out a small daily to-day than it did four or five years ago. And there has been, as a general rule, no corresponding increase in the income of papers. Only in growing, thriving communities has it been possible for a newspaper to keep the income on u parity with the increase in the abso lutely necessary expenditures. Evi dently the Thomasville paper was not one of this class. One of the mistaken ideas somewhat prevalent is that any small city ean support a daily paper. This is one of the grievous errors of judgment that has led to the squandering of many thousands of dollars and the filling of newspaper cemeteries with blasted hopes. There are several cities in Georgia to-day where small dailies are being published that really cannot aud do not afford legitimate support for daily newspapers. The end of some of these papers is painfully apparent. Tfle old idea that if one paper was a good thing for a small city, two or three were a hetser thing, has been effectually exploded by experience. Many small cities that had two now have hut one paper, business men real izing that one fairly good paper is bet ter than two half-starved newspapers always on tho verge of bankruptcy. The failure of the Thomasville pa per, after nineteen years of life, is to be regretted. It is to be hoped that it will fall into hands that will be able to put it on its feet again. Would you have swapped places with ' the days of your courtship, and be juat a king that day when she first accepted as proud of her kiss, just as happy to your invitation to a buggy ride? | take her to your arms, as on that glorious When she came close to you and pin- j night when she promised to beyoura, and ned the hyacinth or the violet to your ; yielded her queenly Lipa to your kiaeT Children’s Day in a Dental Office. “I wish to-morrow were over,” said a young dentist on Friday night. “And why?” asked the patient, ad miring her new porcelain inlay. “Saturday is children’s day, and by night I haven’t a nerve in my makeup that isn’t on edge. It isn’t so much the children themselves who are a nui sance, but their mothers. They insist on standing at the side of the chair all during the operation, and every five minutes they ask if it hurts, or if it wouldn’t he better to do thus and so with tho tooth. The children them selves invariably cry, but I am accus tomed to that. If that was all they did I wouldn’t mind, but they bite down on my fingers, wiggle all over the chair, an I, what is worse, they romp about the office and make life miserable for the patient in the chair. If I were beginning my practice over again I wouldn’t touch a child. I can’t stop now without losing some of my best patients. ” More Danville Proof. Jacob Schrall, 432 South St., Danville, III., writes: “For over eighteen months I was a sufTerer from kidaey and blad der trouble. During the whole tirre was treated by several doctors and tried several different kidney pills. Seven weeks ago I commenced taking Foley’s Kidney Pills, and am feeling better every day and will be glad to tell any one interested just what Foley’s Kidney Pills did for me.” Sold by all druggims. A man is willing to guess about his business, hut Le wants lo predict the weather Tho school census-taker stopped at a little hut in the mountains, and. ad dressing the motner of an unusually large flock of children, said: “Madam. I am taking the school cen sus. How many children have you be tween the ages of six and--” “Lemme see,” she broke in; “there is Kate an’ Mary an’ Annio an’ Lucy an’ Carrie an’ Rob an’ Jake an’ Will an’ Harry an’ Jim an’-—” She paused for breath and her caller mude haste to say: “Now, madam, if you could just give me the number—” “Number!” she snapped; “numberl We ain’t commenced numberin' yit. thank ye. We ain’t run out o’ names.” The generally accepted belief that a person is useful in proportion as he is busv, is controverted by a writer who says: “( have a dog that loaded up with fleas. In the summer time, when lht» fleas are plentiful, that is the busiest dog 1 ever saw; when he isn’t biting at the fleas, he’s snapping at flies. Ho never has a minute to spare, but when he is the busiest he is the least uc* count for practical purposes. And there ia a young fellow in my neigh borhood who has a cheap watch and nit smokes cigarettes. When he isn’t wind* ing his watch he is lighting a cigareti*. He is a mighty busy young man, but he iBii’t worth two hoops on a water barrel.”—Rule (Tex ) Review. n y 1 cold coming on, take Foley’s Honey and Tar, the greut throat and lung remedy. It stops the cough, relieves the conges tion, and expels the cold from vour a •” !■» mildly laxative. Sold all druggists.