Newspaper Page Text
Wii.t'
Number 19.
. ' ! *
MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, MAY 16, 1871.
THE
foutkftn §rm«t«\
BY
R. A. HAEEISON, OBME & CO.
BASCOM MYRICK, Editor.
Terms, $2.00 Per Annum in Advance
rates of advertising.
OG
J.OO
O 1 I . i 5
r. 2.00
4 | 3.50
5 ! 4.00
4 col I 0.00
4col, 10.00
lcolj 20.00
$2.2a
5.00
7.00
9.00
12.00
15.00
25.00
PO.OO
$7.50
12.00
16.00
25.00
28.00
34.00
60.00
80.00
$12.00
18.00
28-00
35.00
40.00
50.00
80.00
120.00
$20. CO
30.00
40.00
60.00
60.00
75.00
120.00
160.00
legal advertising.
Ordinary's.—-Citations for letters
of administration, guardianship, &c. $ 3 00
Homestead notice......
Applicationtor dism’n from adm n.. 5 UU
Application for dism'n of guard’ll 3 50
Application for leave to sell Land 5 00
Notice to Debtors and Creditors.... 3 00
Sales of Land, per square of ten lines 5 1)0
Sale of personal per sq., ten days 1 50
Sheriffs— Each levy of ten lines, 2 50
Mortgage sales of ten lines or less.. 5 00
Tax Collector’s sales, (2 months 5 00
Clerk’s—Foreclosure of mortgage and
other monthly’s, per square 1 00
Rstray notices,thirty days 3 00
Sales of Land, by Administrators, Execu
tors or Guardians, are required, by law to
be held on the first Tuesday in the month,
between the hours of ten in the forenoon
and three in the afternoon, at the Court
house in the county in which the property
is situated.
Notice of these sales must be published 40
days previous to the day of sale:
Notice for the sale of personal property
must be published 10 days previous to sale
day.
Notice to debtors and creditors, 40 days.
Notice that application will be made to
the Court of Ordinary for leave to sell land,
4 weeks.
Citations for letters of Administration,
Guarlianship, Sec., must be published. 30
j a y S _for dismission from Administration,
monthly six months, for dismission from guar
dianship, 40 days.
Rules for foreclosure of Mortgages must
be published monthly far four months—for
establishing lost papers, for the full space of
three months—for compelling titles from Ex
ecutors or Administrators, where bond has
been given by the deceased, tbe full space
of three months.
Application for Homestead to be published
twice in the space of ten consecutive days.
CHANGE OF SCHEDULE.
MACON & AUGUSTA R. B.
PASSENGER TRAINS GOING
EAST DAILY.
Leave Macon at — -...G. a. m.
Arrive at Milledgeville 8.14 a. m,
“ “.Sparta 9.24 a. m.
“ “Warrenton 11,00 a. m.
Connect at Camak with up train on Geor
gia R. K. for Atlanta.
Arrive at Augusta .......1.45 p. m.
PASSENGER TRAINS GOING
WEST DAILY.
Leave Augusta...... 12 00 m.
Arrive at Warrenton.. 2.00 p. m.
“ “ Sparta 4.20 p. m.
.‘ “ Milledgeville —.5.30 p. m.
“ “ Macon 7.10 p. m.
TRI WEEKLY FREIGHT
GOING WEST MONDAY, WED
NESDAY AND FRIDAY.
Leaves Camak .....6.00 a. m.
Arrives at Warrentor, 6.30 a. m
“ “Sparta ...9.24 a.m.
“ “ Milledgeville 11.20 a. m.
“Macon ........3.35 p.m.
RETURNING— G O I N G EAST
TUESDAY, THURSDAY AND
SATURDAY.
Leave Macon ....6.00 a. m.
Arrive at Milledgeville .10.00 a. m.
“ “Sparta 12.00 m,
“ “ Warrenton..... : 2 00 p.m.
“ “ Camak.........3.00 p. m.
Schedule of the Georgia Railroad
SUPERINTENDENT’S OFFICE, )
GaohoiA and M. & A. Bailroai, Company, >
Augusta, Ga., January 20,1871. j
O N and after SUNDAY. January 22d, 1871,
the Passenger .Trains will run as lol-
lows;
day passengee teain, daily,
(SUNDAY EXCEPTED.)
Leave Augusta at... *— 8.CO A. M
“ Atlanta at—... 5.10 A.M.
Arrive at Augusta...--. ..-.-.6.30 P. M.
“ at Atlanta —-.5.40 P.M.
NIGHT PASSENGEE TEAIN.
Leave Augusta at .... -- ..8.30 P. M.
“ Atlanta at.... ...10,15 P.M.
Arrive at Augusta.... ..........6.40 A. M.
' Atlanta—........—7.30 A.M.
Both Day and Night Passenger Trains will
make close connections at Augusta and Atlan
ta with Passenger Trains of Connecting
Roads.
Passengers from Atlanta, Athens, Washing
ton, and Stations on Georgia Eailroad, by ta
king the Down Day Passenger Train will
mako close connection at Camak with the Ma
son Passenger Train, and reach Macon tbe
•ame day at7-40, p, m.
PLANTERS* HOTEL.
Augusta^ <*a. •
Tbs only Hotel in the City where Gas is used
throughout.
JOHN A. GOLDSTEIN.
i«acon Slfil) c rt i s c m ente.
0. F. MLLLEX.MX & SOX,
MINI! F 1C TUUECSI: SET MUSKS
—OF
BOOTS AND SHOES.
IN BASEMENT OF
F.L. GROCE'S SHOE STORE,
HOLLINGSWOETH BLOCK MACON, GA.
E March 21,1870. 11 3m.
353 P. STRONG.
Wholesale and Retail Dealer
IN
No. 52 SECOND STREET,
> MACON, GrA.
E March 21, 1871.
11 3m.
CROCKETT IRON WORKS,
MACON, GA-
Build Iron Bailings for Grave Lots and
Public Squares, die-
Make ITOESE POWER SAW MILLS,
GRIST MILLS, Portable Engines, and Iron
and Brass Castings of all kinds.
12. CROCKETT.
R March 21, 1871.
11 3m.
SP0TSW00D HOTEL
DEPOT!
T. H. HARRIS, Proprietor.
M AGO ET, Gr 33 O.
T MARK.WALTER’S
JL
Broad St., Augusta, Ga.
MARBLE MONUMENTS, T03IB
STONES *C., &C.
Marble Mantels and Furnilure-Marble of all
kinds Furnished to Order. All work for the
Country carefully boxed for shipment,
p M’ch 12 ’70 ly. r Feb 1,’71 ly
T. W. WHITE,
MILLEDGEVILLE, GA,
wtt.t. PSACTHS IN THIS AND TH3 ADJOINING! CC7NTISS.
E?* Applications for Homestead Exemp
tions under the new law, and other business
before the Court of Ordinary, will receive
proper attention.
January 1 1871. ly-
STEREOSCOPES
VIEWS, _ r
ALBUMS,
CHEOMOS,
FRAMES.
E. & H- T. ANTHONY & CO
591 ElOADWAY, N Y-
Invite the attention of the Trade to their ex
tensive assortment of the above goods, of
their own publication, manufacture and. impor
tation. ,
Also,
PHOTO LANTERN SLIDES
and : i
grapiioscopEs.
NEW VIEWS OFYO SEMITE.
E. & H- T. AWTSOWY & CO
591 Broadway, New-York,
Opposite Metropolitan Hotel
importers and marufactures OF
photographic materials.
p March 11, 61 6m. R March 14, 10 6m
NATURE’S
Free from the Poisonous and
Health-destroying Drugs us
ed in other Hair Prepara
tions.
No SUGAR OF LEAD—No
LITHARGE—No NITRATE
OF SILVER, and is entirely
Transparent and clear as crystal, it will not
sod the finest fabric—perfectly SAFE, CLEAN
.nd EFFICIEN T—desideratums LONG
SOUGHT FOR AND FOUND AT LAST!
It restores and prevents the Ilair from be
coming GrnV, imparls a soft, glossy appear
ance, removes Dai draff, is cool and refreshing
to the head, checks the Hair from falling off,
and restores it to a great extent whan prema
turely lost, prevents Headaches, cuies all hu
mors, cutaneous eruptions, £^d 'innatural Heat.
AS A DRESSING FOR THJS H$IRi IT M
THE BEST ARTICLE IN THE MARKET.
Dll. G. SMITH, Patentee, Groton Junction,
Mass., Prepared on'y by PROCTOR BROTH
ERS, Gloucester, Mats. The Genuine is-put
up in a pannel bottle, made expressly for it
with the uame of the article blown in the glass.
Ask your Druggist for Nature'# Hair restora
tive, and take no other.
For sale in Milledgeville by L. W. HUNT
& I C n°Sparta, by A. H. BIRDSONG & CO.
p July a ly* RFebaa’TUy.
JJtiscellanmis.
(The following Story, written by a gifted
Southern writer, is entered as a competitor for the
$10000 prize offend by Messrs. K. A. Har
rison j- Bro., for “7he best original contri
bution" furnished their papers, during the pres
ent year.
MISTRESS ELSIE.
CHAPTER XIII.
Few know in this good country,
blessed by God, what dire distress
beset the pathway of the early colo
nists. Lack of food, lack ol clothes,
in constant danger of assaults from
unfiiendly-Indians, and oftentimes
afflicted with mortal diseases, which
there was no skillful leech to cure.
But out of their many trials there
rose up tnen—strong of heart and
steadfast of purpose—who bravely
stood famine and sickness, nor flinch
ed when cold ami hardships pressed
upon them. In this manuscript,
which my poor skill hath put togeth
er, I would have all to know that
ray husband Anthony, was such a
man : Not so full of godliness as he
might have been, bat from his youth
upward, an honorable man—of whom
none ever said aught in disparage
ment.
When the winter time came, and
the cold pinched us, there was talk of
a famine; and for whole days togeth
er, he would be gone in the forests
seeking food. At such times I was
left alone with the child, save when
Nan Murray made opportunity to
come and see how we fared. Often
as I went upon my housewife duty,
a shadow would darken the door,
and looking up I would see one of
the savage folk standing within the
entrance. Some times their plumes
would reach above the door-v\ay,
and one or two who came thus, wore
tiny green and yellow snakes for or
naments, which made me shiver at
the sight. They had strange ways,
such as pleased me little. So I ever
made it convenient to gel between
them and the child; nor cared to
have them handle him, for fear, in
an unguarded moment, they ran
away with him, or scalped him in
my sight. For though they were, to
all appearances, very friendly, there
was a growing discontent which
made me dread some misfortune
would come upon us ere long ; that
those keen knives, which we had
given them in token of good will,
would one day flash on us—making
us rue the day that brought us to
their country. When they fetched
baskets of corn to sell, they made
such bargains out of me as pleased
them best; and so great was my
fear of them, that to be rid of their
company, I’d part with all 1 had to
spare.
One day when Anthony had gone
to hunt, as was his custom, I spent
my leisure lime with Nan ; and her
countenance was so disturbed, I
made bold to ask the cause thereof.
She hesitated much at first, then said
she was plagued with fearful visions,
and had seen no less than three
ghosts in as many nights ! the which
[ begged her not to speak abroad,
else they took her for a witch and
ducked her in the river. She said
she verily believed she had a judg
ment on her, for craving to quit that
wretched country and go home a
gain ; for one ghost she made cerium
was her father, since it shook its
head as he was given to. do, when
any trouble was on hand. Another
was her favored brother; but she
durst not tell her husband, since he
had no faith in anything like that.
As for myself, I doubled not she
saw them all; and straightway, the
very next night, I took to having
visions too, and dreamed my uncle
came and put his golden chain a-
round my neck; at which I knew
some evil must be brewing, or 1 had
not been so warned. Having my
mind filled with all such things, 1
said to Anthony:
“Tell me how I must act, and how
care best for the child if, peradven
ture, aught happen when thou art in
the forest ?”
“God forbid !” was all he made
reply, and began to walk back and
forth—stopping ever and anon, to
look at young Anthony who was
sleeping in his cot beside the fire
place.
The same night he showed me a
paper which he said was of great
value—since it treated of certain
lands—and bade me keep my eyes
upon it: so, without mentioning the
matter to any, I §ewed It secure
within a small roll and hid it upon
my person—though what motive
prompted me, I could not tell.
No one knoweth how fearful that
winter was. How short the corn
ran in the store-house, anchbow, by
slow degrees, the women grew hol
low-eyed and the little children held
out their hands for bread. Every
week Lhe men went forth to hunt;
until at length, it became a fruitless
undertaking-—for they never return
ed full handed. The cold had driv
en every thing away or to the shel
ters beyond their reach; and it was
common to hear tbe cry, “They have
brought nothing!” burst from lips
that were wasting tor strengthening
food. It so happened that Anthony
was successful when others failed;
a nd my heart smote me when I saw
the eyes that followed him when he
brought it home to the child and me.
Often he went to the mill to grind
the week’s allowance apd the meas
ure came back lacking, for he had
taken pity on some needy person.
“Eat, eat! thou and the child,” he
would say, as if he dreaded we had
not had enough to satisfy us. “Is
he losing flesh, Elsie?” he would in
quire of me at another time, feeling
the limbs of the child as he spoke,
and I always answered “nay, ’tis
only ihy fear;” for I had it not in
my heart to say otherwise. Pres
ently matters grew so much worse
that, even he could not provide meat,
and, as if our evils came not single,
the weather-was bitter cold, with
constant falls of snow, which made
it hard to keep comfortable in our
poor houses. For the greater part I
held the child in my arms beside the
fire, and Anthony would come in and
out—his face well nigh despairing
in its look, as he glanced first at one,
then at the other of us.
Nan came through sleet and snow
to find 'out how we did; and often,
by her counsels, making our difficul
ties lighter. Once she came, and 1
remember it was Christmas-eve.
Together we told each other how
merrily the bells were ringing in
old England to let all Christian peo-
pie know the Lord’s nativity was
nigh at hand! In our minds we could
see the great yule log, the holly
branches, and the Christmas cheer;
and our eyes were filled with tears—
for cold and hunger contrasted sadly
with those visionsof fire-side warmth
and feasting; but in our desolation,
we strove to catch the echo in our
hear! s of all the blessed Christmas
hymns we had heard, to help us bear
our trials, and whilst we talked, An
thony came and broke upon us, say
ing:
“We have heard of a certain spot
where game can be killed, and are
going; an it please God, to kill e-
nough to last this cold spell out!”
“Dothmy husband go too?” Nan
asked.
“To a certainty, mistress.”
“Then I’ll go bid him God-speed,”
she said, but promised ere she left,
to come and bide with me until the
hunt was over.
“Who brought the news, Antho
ny ?” I inquired, the while I made
ready bis provision bag.
“An Indian lad whom we may
trust to know all that he saith,” he
answered, more hopefully than I had
heard him speak of late.
“I like it not,” I said ; but he was
so busy putting on his weapons, that
he paid no heed; and after he was
through, only staid a moment to hold
the child, and bid ive take good care
of myself and him; and then went
off—the sound of his footsteps lost
in the heavy yielding snow as lie
strode hurriedly to join the other
#
men.
Nan came as she had said she
would, and that night we rested in
quiet. When Christmas morning
rose, the day was bright and clear,
and the snow lay spotless on the
ground, All day the friendly Ionian*
were about the town, and cheered
us so much by telling how the game
abounded in the spot the men were
going to. Some, even to show their
good will, brought baskets of corn
and dried flesh, as presents; and it
seemed that our troubles were soon
to be over. The people spoke more
cheerily, and the few men left with
in the town grew more hopeful for
the future.
At twilight ail was very still-
some Indians yet tarried, going in
every nook and corner, to show their
friendly spirit—but the greater por
tion were gone, seeming well satis
fied with their white brothers. The
stars came out so thick and bright, it
seemed the heavens had been sifted
with gold, ’and no breath of danger
floated over the little town sleeping
among the hills.
Nan pleaded that I should sing a
Christmas psalm, but tbe few that I
knew were of such sorrowful mem
ories, that I prayed her to excuse
me; so we laid down to rest again.
It was the second night since An
thony had gone.
How long I slept I cannot tell—it
must have been until the first cock
crowing; but when I waked it was
with a sense of horror upon me, and
I clasped the child in my arms too
terrified to do aught but listen—
whilst Nan crept to the door to look
out. Framie cries were rending the
air, and lights from huge torches
made every spot look bright as day,
while the Indian war-whoop carried
dismay and death befoie it! Sounds
of strife—women pleading for mer
cy, and the smothered wail of little
children commingled togeiher, until
the ear was sickened and oppressed.
“Anthony, Anthony!” I screamed,
“come save the little childand
then, as all the scene of blood arose
before me, I felt my senses reel, and
my utter helplessness was madden*
ing.
I heard them coming nearer, and
still nearer! and I looked with wild
despairing eyes at the little face upon
my bosom. Full soon would the red
blood be streaming from the cleft
forehaad and the childish eyes be
gazing dull and lifeless at me!
The thought was frightful, and I
sprang from bed, determined to fly
from thence. It did not matter
where, so I but lost the sight and
sounds of death! And Nan, who
hitherto had been upon knees, ran
to me ; and when she saw my fran
tic purpose, which nothing could dis
suade, she wrapped other clothing
about me, and with more than hu
man strength, partly bore me out in
to the small lot beyond our house.
There stood a great deal-box there—
such as had brought stores from Eng
land—and Anthony had used it for
packing away our salted provision ;
but it had been cast aside as useless,
since the scarcity of food ; the snow
had drifted over and against if Nan
began to clear it awayr and just so
soon as she could lift it up, did so,
bidding me in whispers “creep un
der with the child.” And when I
had so done, I could bear her pack
ing some snow upon the top, as she
had found it. Then she went away
and all was still. The foe seemed
to be in another quarter of the town.
The box was broken in one place,
enabling me to see indistinctly out,
and high enough for me to sit down
on the ground, but so poor a shelter,
so weak a refuge, that I would have
fled from it had any other spot come
to me as belter.
1 had not been there exceeding
twenty minutes, when I saw the red
glare of the torches coming; and
full soon the same dismal cries
reached me, growing louder every
moment, and more near; whilst the
footsteps of those who were fleeing
before them, were most distinct. I
sat still and wailed for them, certain
they would find me—certain that my
fate would soon overtake me—and
in that most awful hour of sickening
suspense, I thought how Anthony
would return—perchance laden with
provision—and would find the child
and me dead, hideous to look up
on—and 1 pitied the poor man in his
great misery. Directly tbe savages
would search our house, and then
the small enclosure around it, until
they found us where we lay hidden.
In my mind I could see them tear
tbe child from iny arms—a tree stood
just beside our hiding-place, and
they might dash him ngaiust it,
breaking with one dread blow, the
tender limbs so fair to look upon!
Of myself I cotrid not think, hut
when by straining my eyes 1 saw
the savages enter our dwelling and
throw open the doors and windows,
from which the light streamed, I
held the child closer, for I lelt our
hour bad come. Added to all else,
it was bitter cold aod I leared that
we would freeze.
They tore open every chest and
examined every article, mingling
their talk with hideous cries and
leaping, and as they finished their
search, torches were set about the
house, and presently the flames
mounted high above the roof, and
the little cottage was one mass of
light whose warmth reached even
we were concealed.
Groups of two and three stood
watching their work—decked oft’
with flaunting plumes, and frightful
with their savage paint and dress. It
was not long before I saw them mov
ing about, and to my terror, I beheld
one coming toward the box! He had
received some slight wound, for he
staunched it ever and anon, as be
came ; and when he reached us, he
struck the side of the box with his
tomahawk so loudly, that the child
started in its sleep. What if he
should wake and cry? Our doom
would be sealed. 1 heard him lean
heavily against it; and then, as
though his wound were painful,
stretch himself upon the top, and I
held my breath, for it seemed that
death must come!
How could I keep the child still ?
How could I smother every souud
to ears so trained to catch the faint
est ? In my great extremity, I laid
him down, and crouching on my
knees I clasped his hands in mine and
prayed with all my soul and strength
to be befriended by the Lord. I had
scarcely risen, when two other In
dians came up, and from their signs
L knew they wished to search the
box,—though I could not understand
their words—and when their wound
ed comrade would not move, their
talk was loud and angry, but it did
not avail; and to my joy I saw them
join a party just arrived and go up
on their way in haste as though some
news had just reached them. I held
the child close up to me, and did my
best to shield him from the cold
which was intense—and by and by,
a kind of numboess stole upon me.
Before that, my limbs had seemed
like lumps of ice, and with the great
est effort 1 had kept from crying out
with pain; but a sleepiness had suc
ceeded it, and with my last waking
thought, I remember that I took my
cloak off and folded it over the child—
then nothing mote was clear. The
fear of death, the dread of the savage
who still lay over head, the pity for
Anthony, faded like dreams before
the sleep which I fell into.
(Concluded in our next.)
Jh GIRDLE AROUND TBE WOULD.
The famous girdle round the
world, referred to by “Puck,” will
actually be completed next mouth.
The line from London to Singapore
has just been completed, and will be
extended to Hong Kong within the
next four weeks. As London is al
ready in telegraphic communication
with San Francisco, by way of New
York, it follows that after communi
cation shall be opened between Lon
don and Hong Kong, a resident in
the latter place will be able to tele
graph to San Francisco with about
as much rapidity as though there
were a line under the Pacific Ocean.
Tbe constantly increasing trade be<
tween China and our western coast
will make the use of the telegraph a
necessity to Hong Kong and Cali
fornia merchants trading with one
another. There will, therefore, be an
immediate increase in the business
of the Western Union and Atlantic
telegraph companies, and we may
expect to see earnest opposition, es- i
pecially from the latter, to the Pa-
ific O cean telegraph scheme. t
. » « i
Tom,” said a blacksmith
to his apprentice, “you have been ,
with me now three months, and have
seen all the different points in our
trade. I wish togive you your choice '
of work for awhile.” “Thank’ee, sir.”
“Well, now, what part of the bust ,
ness do yen like best?” “Shuttin’ up '
shop and goin’ (o dinner, sir.” |
• is tho Interior of the Earth Solid or
r Fluid?
1 AUliongh-the doctrine^that the earth
j is a molten sphere, surrounded by a thin
crust of solid matter, was once almost
> universally taught by geologists, there
; have of late years been brought for-
i ward several arguments to tbe contrary,
which apparently, are moro in favor of
1 its being a solid, or nearly a solid, mass
v throughout; and these arguments are
i fully entitled to our consideration, as
1 our object is not to defend any particn-
> lar theory, but to arrive, as nearly as we
J can, at the truth. I will, therefore, in
the first place, proceed to scrutinize all
r which has been brought forward in op-
, position to the older hypothesis, and
t then to consider whether any other ex
planation yet advanced is more in ac
cordance with the facts of the case.
1 First of all, we are to answer the
» question as to whether it is possible for
j such a thin crust to remain solid, and
not at once to become melted up andab-
r sorbed into tbe much greater mass of
e molten matter beneath it? This latter
s would doubtless bo tbe case, if tbe fluid
mass had any means of keeping np its
1 high temperature, independently of the
f Amount of heat it actually possessed
when it originally assumed the form of
^ an igneous gloVe, The question, how
ever, in reality, answers itself in the
} negative, since it is evident that no
^ crust could even commence to form on
the surface, unless the sphere itself was
1 at the moment actually giving off more
t heat, from its outer surface to the sur
rounding atmosphere, than it could sup
ply from its more central parts, in order
1 to keep the whole in a perfectly flaid
1 condition, so that, when once such a
5 crust, however thin, had formed upon
' the surface, it is self-evident that it
2 could not again become melted np or
i reabsorbed into the fluid mass below.
j This external process, of solidifica
tion due to refrigeration, would then
* continue going on from the outside in-
» ward, until a thickness of ernst had been
j attained sufficient to arrest, or neutral
ize (owing to its bad conductibility of
1 heat,) both the cooling action of the snr-
3 rounding air and the loss of more heat
from the molten mass within; and thns a
j stage would soon be arrived at when
* both these actions would so connterbal-
l ance one another, that the further cool
ing down of the earth could be all but
? arrested; a condition ruling at the pres-
■ ent time, since the earth-surface, at this
1 moment, so far from receiving any, or
more than a minute amount of heat from
. the interior, appears to depend entirely,
■ as regards its temperature, upon the heat
r which it receives from the sun’s rays.
j We have next to consider the argu
ment that, if the earth’s exterior were
1 in reality only such a thin covering, or
l crust, like the shell of an egg, to which
. it has often been likened, such a thick
ness would be altogether insufficient to
1 give to it that stability which we know
3 it to possess, and that, consequently, it
] could never sustain the enormous weight
of its mountain-ranges, such as, for ex
ample, the Himalayas of Asia, or tho
r Andes of America, which are, as it were,
| masses of rock piled up high above its
mean surface-level.
1 At first sight, this style of roasoning
’ not only appears plausible, bat even
» seems to threaten to npset the entire
I hypothesis altogether. It reqnires but
little sober consideration, however, to
' prove that it is rather, so to speak, sen-
| sational in character than actually foun
ded on the facts of the case; for it is only
’ requsito for us to be able to form in onr
■ minds someftangible idea of the relative
| proportion which the size of even the
highest mountain bears to that of the
entire globe itself, to convince us, if sueh
• a crust could once form and support its
- self, that it could with ease support the
; weight of tbe mountains also. The
’ great Himalayan chain of mountains
. rises to a maximum altitude of thirty-one
. thousand eight hundred and sixty feet,
or six miles above the level of the sea;
| and, if the earth could be seen reduced
iu scale down to tbe size of an orange,
! to all intents and purposes it would look
like an almost smooth ball, since even
the highest mountains and deepest val
leys upon its surface would present to the
eye no greater inequalities in outline than
: the little pimples and hollows on the out-
I side of the skin of an ordinary orange.
If this thin crust of the earth can sap-
port itself, it is not at all likely to be
crushed in by the, comparatively speak
ing, insignificant weight of our greatest
mountain-chains; for, in point of fact,
it would be quite as unreasonable to
maintain such a disposition, as to declare
that the Bhell of a hen’s egg would be
crushed in~by simply laying a piece of a
similar egg-shell upon its outside.
That a very thin spheroidal crust, or
shell, enclosing a body of liquid matter,
6uch as an ordinary fowl’s egg, does
possess in itself an enormous degree of
stability and power to resist pressure
from without, is easily demonstrated by
merely loading a small portion of its
surface with weights, as long us it does
not give way under them. Even when
placed on its side (ffr least strong posi
tion,) it is found that a portion of the
shell, only one quarter of an inch square
will sustain several pounds weight with
out showing any symptoma of cither
cracking or crushing; or, in other words,
this simple experiment indicates that, is
the external ernst of the earth were but
as thick and strong in proportion as an
egg-shell, it woald be folly capable of
sustaining masses) equal in volume and
weight to many Himalayas, piled np one
atop of another, without any danger
whatever to its stability.—Extract fruns
a Lecture by David Forbes, F. R- S.
The inquiry as to where all tbe pins
go to, has been satisfactorily answered.
The theory now is, that they go Into th«
ground and become terra-pins,
