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BUSINESS CARDS.
H C RONEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
THOMSON,’ GA.
Will practice in the Augusta, North
«rn and Middle Circuits. nolyl
R. W H. NEAL,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
THOMSON, GA.
PAUL C. HUDSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Thomson, Gil.
Will practice in the Superior Courts of
the Augusta. Northern and Middle Circuits,
and in the Supreme Court, and will give
attention to all cases in Bankruptcy.
Aug. 25, 1174. ts
Cmtral Ijotel
IB "ST
MRS. W. M. THOMAS,
AUGUSTA. GEORGIA
seplltf
C. E. DODl). H. L. MEALING.
C. E. DODD & CO.,
HATE REMOVED TO 219 BKOAD ST.,
Opposite the Central Hotel,
AUGUSTA, <4.V.
Call and boo our Styles of
MEN’S BOY’S AND CHILDREN’S
HAT.
Novembei 5. IS7;!. Cm
TO YOUNG MEN.
J OB thtfdevelopemcnt of Business talents
and character, and the preparation of young
and middle aged men for the counting
house and business pursuits, the best facili
ties are offered at
M O O 11 X I ’ JS
Southern Business University,
Atlanta, Ga. The largest and best Practi
cal Business School in tho South, Students
received at any time.
C4T Send for a Catalogue.
June 24, 1874. ly
Thomson High School
FOR
B3Tl«i AIN 1) GIKCW.
T
| HE Spring Session of this Institution will
open on
Monday, January 13th, 1875,
and will continue six Kchohurtic months.
Rates of tuition for tho term. 12, IS, 24
and 30 dollars, according to class.
The course of study embraces all the
branches usually taught in schools of high
gUvde, including FRENCH, GERMAN and
SPANISH.
Students will 1»q charged from time of
entrance until close of term. Deductions
made for absence from Providential causes.
Board in private families can be obtained
At reasonable rates.
Competent assistance has been secured.
For Circulars apply to
N. A. LEWIS, Prin.,
nov2 l tdec2f»l 875
© FEU M .
DR. COLLINS’ PAINLESS OPIUM AN
TIDOTE cures without pain oruiater
ial inconvenience !
“Theriaka,” an interesting quarterly
magazine of about 100 pages, with ;jU pages
of devoted to the interest of
the opium afflicted, and all necessary parti
culars, sent free on application. Address
B. M. WOOLLEY, Agent, Atlanta, Ga.
•STOffice in Park Medical Institute, corner
Broad and Mitchell Streets (up-stairs),
Atlanta. Ga. 82-f*
DARWIN ii. JONES’
ITUITHIHiGtR WORKS,
31 Broad Street, Atlanta, Ga.
WHITE WIRE Hi,
CIDER VINEGAR,
And Sweet Cider.
82-b*
JOB PRINTING,
BOOK BINDING,
AND
BLiHK BOOR IlNOf’T,
BY
Jab. L. tiow,
Augusta, Ga.
C-lT Orders from the country promptly
filled and satisfaction guaranteed. Maga
zines and papers bound, and old books
rebound at short notice and moderate prices.
82-c*
BRICK.
jVITWAYS on hand a large stock of best
Brick, for sale at the lowest market price.
J. P. BONDUBANT A CO..
July S, 1474 ts Augusta, Ga.
<Hit> uJunHHeii louijnal
VOL. V.
Notice of Dismission.
GEORGIA —McDuffie County.
R. WETHERS, Administrator of Denis
Paschal, colored, deceased, applies to the
undersigned for Letters Dismissory from
his administratorship: Therefore, all per
sons concerned are hereby required to show
| cause, if any they have, within the time
prescribed by law, why- said Administrator
should not be discharged.
A. B. THRASHER,
Jan. 13, 1875. Urn. Ordinary.
J )en tistry.
I)r ALBERT HAPE offers his profes
sional services to the citizens of Thomson
and vicinity. His office for the present will
be at the residence of MR. v ‘\ E. SPIER,
where he may be fvund from the Ist to the
10th of each month.
July 8, 1874. ts
For Sale-
TIMID large building, on Main street, in
I Thomson, occupied at present by Sutton
A' Hamlet, Dr. Jas S. Jones and Mrs. J. C>
Richards.
The house is well arranged, and finished
throughout: with one large store room*md
office below, and five rooms above: and
with a kitchen and well of good water
on the premises.
i ALSO, the house, on Main street, now
occupied by Jerre F. .Tones, as a store house
i For terms apply to
JNO. L. HOLZENDORF,
Nov.'Uf Thomson, Ga.
$50.00 REWARD.
ON the night of the ir*th Dec. last, one
Allen Creed set fire to and burned up
my Bam and Stables, and Blacksmith shop,
Ac.
Said Allen has fled from justice. He is
of brown complexion, stutters very badly,
and cannot talk without jumping up. The
above reward will be paid for the delivery
of said A lien Creed to any officer of the State,
and for bis safe-keeping, until he cun bo
delivered to the Sheriff of McDuffie Cos.
C. 11. BUSSEY.
JauG'7stf. Thomson, Ga.
NASHVILLE
Business College
AND
TELKLHAPU INSTITUTE
The Colleges for the Times!
Course of Study short, practical, tho
rough.
Rates reasonable. Board cheap.
The Lebanon Business College and
! Telegr.pl! Institute have been removed
j to Nashvilio.
We now have superior advantages.
Send for College Journal to
tom: > A SI’TTOX.
NASIIYILI.Ii, TEW.
ClO-tf
Improved Self-Eeating
MSB? FLIT IRON I
| An article the World cannot beat,
and no woman condemn!
The many advantages of this Iron recom
mend it to every one. Its superior merit is,
that by heating it self, it does away with fires
in your kitchen, leaving your room cool
and pleasant, while standing over your iron
ing table. It is always ready for use. It
requires but five minutes to heat; it will
keep hot for any number of hours, at an
expense merely nominal,
i it is perfectly clean from dust or smoke.
| ft can be used in any room or even out of
doors. It has been thoroughly tested and
proven to have all the merits we claim
for it. It is as far superior to the
common flat iron as steam invention is
above manual labor, or as the railroad is to
the old stage coach. All we ask is one trial
| to be appreciated.
County Rights for sale only by
PHILLIPS & VINTON,
Atlanta, Ga.
ADKINS & BENTON,
Thomson, Ga.
j Agents for McDuffie County.
Our Gratuitous exponent.
I Gentlemen, although perfectly neutral in
this mattei, as far as self-interest is con
; eerned: not being a man of fashion myself,
j yet I cannot refrain on this occasion from
! rising to explain the observation of which
| my studied experience in regard to matters
of wearing apparel, and the comfort and
satisfaction of—of—yes gentlemen—altho’
I unaccustomed to—that is—l firmly believe,
j from what I have seen —my wife lias heard
■ the same thing that economy, durability,
: splendidity, substantiality, and good fits can
j be had in the clothing line by trading at
A. J. ADKINS'.
POETICAL.
Alter Ten Years.
BY CARL MCKINLEY.
[A t-roup of cavalry, the “Edgefield
Sabre Club,” uniformed in Confederate
Grey, visited Columbia during the Fair
week of 1873. They reached town about
dusk of the 13th of November.]
■ It was the first day of the Fair,
And fast, on every side,
From all the country round about,
Rolled in the living tide.
All day along the broad highways
The great crowd ebbed and flowed;
And whirling wheels and trampling feet
Thronged all the sounding load.
From mom till night I marked the rout
That came and went alway.
Despite the wintry wind and rain,
The town kept holliday.
But at the dusk I stood apart,
To watch the troubled flow
Os tired feet, that down the street,
In weary sort did go.
( Long while I stood and waited there,
! Alone and silently,
| Watching the outer, larger Fair
Os human vanity.
Till, tired at last, I turned away,
With seeing satisfied,
The weary sights and weary sounds,
Still rising far and wide.
But ere that I had gone a rood,
I marked upon it all.
Along the street, from end to end,
A sudden silence fall.
Bee there! — and every aye was fixed;
And every foot was stayed ;
We saw beyond the breathless throng,
A dusky cavalcade
Come riding up by two and two,
As silent as the dead,
Their very horse hoofs made no sound
l pon the hard road bed.
No sound of bugle, nor of drum,
Nor loud command was there;
No silken flag threw out its folds
Upon the evening air.
Nor flashing uniform they wore,
But by the light of day,
That still was left, we thrilled to see
Once more —the Rebel Grey! A
And nearer, nearer yet they come,
I hey' climb tho weary hill,
And nearer yet, upon the throng
The hush grows deeper still.
No silken flag throws out its folds
Upon the evening air
And yet above their heads we see
A tattered banner there!
Idle banner that doth haunt our sleep,
I lie Southern Cross and Crown!
Hie wonder of a thousand lauds,
And glory of our own;
That lair hands wrought, that brave hands
bore
Unsullied all its years:
Idial Hope baptized with fair, false smiles,
That Memory guards with tears.
Our blazon in the days of wrath,
Our pride in days of peace .
I he flag that guarded all ottr lainl
And tiallied along the setis.
' bo crimson sen, the azure cross
We see with more tlnm sight!
The stars we deemed forever set
Once more shine through tho night.
Forgotten are our fetters now -
Forgotten all our pain ;
These riders bring a spell with thorn,
And we are free again !
So strange they seem, there comes a doubt
It these be living men ;
We cannot think we look upon
That glorious host again.
Yet there they ride, and these not all,
We saw them far along;
Behind, before, by thousands more,
'idle old time squadrons throng.
There goes the Army of the North!
There Johnston and the West! -
An angry wave that rolleth on
\Wtli bayonet ted crest,
Once more the light of .Jackson’s sword
Far flushing through the gloom :
Inert; Ashby rides, and there once more
The toss of cituart s plume!
Oh, life goes back ten years to-night,
And we are men once more,
And this old hill is Arlingion,
And there the alien shore.
And over yonder on the bights
The hostile camp-fires quiver,
And suddenly, ’twixt us and them
Flows by Potomac’s river.
And these be going to the front,
With work to do ahead;
How fair they ride! God go with them!
Alas ! that day is dead.
0 o r Stuart’s head, in place of plume,
The long grass now doth wave ;
Ten times we’ve seen the violets bloom
On Stonewall Jackson’s grave.
And he who ne’er did yield to man
Hath yielded unto Death ;
The stainless sword, at Lexington,
Hangs idly in its sheath.
The red scars on Virginia’s hill
Are healing one by one,
And golden grain, on Malvern’s side,
J.s waving in the sun.
The field we fought, the wood we held,
uu yonder fearful day,
Now echo to tin; song of birds,
Or sound of childish play.
And then, when last we stood arrayed
That last sad April morn— *
Forgetful nature smiles again
In ranks of rustling corn,
The flag that ©nee did brave a world,
From its proud standard riven,
Is folded from our sight, and now
Has no place under heaven,
Save in our hearts and in our homes,
'A here sadly, day by day,
The silent spiders, fittingly;
Are shrouding it in grey.
But see! the strange troops fade away,
I he last tile disappears.
We cannot see them for the night,
Or—for these binding tears.
Now they are gone! and gone our dream
An darkly o’er the town,
And o’er our hearts, and o’ei the Past
Once more the night comes down.
Yet hail! ye gallant riders all
Tho’ none may speak your praise,
Ye see how, in a thousand eyes
A thousand w elcomes blaze.
And many a kindly heart, I ween,
Doth bless your ride to-day,
In that ye once more bring to sight
The Wearing of the Grey.
Not yet forgotten is our past,
Tho’ we to-day are dumb;
To-night we t U telll the old days o’er,
And dream of one to come
31oua—
* Ǥ _
WRITTEN FOR THE
Br A LADY OF GA.
INTO EACH LIFE 8051* RAIN MI ST FALL.
Tlie dawn, with sombre tints, was
striding over the crescent city of our
southland. It cast it® hoary hues ox er
mansion, and hovel, atom- and steeple,
the fluent waters of tin Western Nile,
and the distant mnijnuriog sea. The
daily crowded streets were still deserted
and silent, but the deep hum that pervad
ed the air, betokened the awakening of a
vast multitude, and iu a littie while the
silence and gloom will -give way to the
bustle and life of the active denizens.
Iu the grey shadows, on the steps of a
handsome building, a little orange seller
lay asleep. A basket sat at her side fill
ed with bright ovA rres and candies
of an inexpensive kind. It was an etuly
hour for defencelessgirlhnod to he abroad
in a large city, where innocence is so
often the toy of vice, or crushed, as some
sweet flower beneath the iron heel of sin.
Rut all unconscious in hqr stolen slumber
lay the child worn and weary, having
wnthched liy the bedside of an almost
dying mother, whose only stay and solace
was her darling daughter; and right
nobly that little one, by her little efforts,
kept the wolf from the door, and by her
sunny smiles, tried to lighten the world
sick, poor, broken heart of her mother.
It was scarcely light when the girl
stole softly out from the miserable hovel
she called homo, with her basket on her
arm, hoping that some early traveler, on
his way to the cars or .the steamboat,
would purchase an orange or two, and
then her mother could bate a nice French
roll for her breakfast. -’jj'be child was
so wearied by her nightly , vigils, that,
after walking the street* f(h some time,
■she sat down on a stone ! stej> to rest, and
before she knkw it she lay sleeping on
her hard bedj. as if it were the softest
down. A wagon rattled by containing
the trunks hid a carpet-Sjng. The driver
glanced carelessly at the sleeper, said
somethinambout beggars, and trotted
briskly oußfof sight.
A lojfajlr, returning .from gome%Ms
of passed wi|h lii« lntudv in
his pockets, whistling ‘ snatches frfijn
some favorite opera. A quick step rang
along the pavement, and an upright form
came in sight. He v.bu 4 evidently a
traveler, and one could soult. a glance, a
gentleman. Suddenly he halted
bending over the rieepjtigs at
her pale face. ‘ e
“Poor little waif,” he said, as lie geiiffy
put back the bright hair from her wan
but perfectly chiselled features. “Poor
little waif,” and 1 lie speaker’s lip lost its
accustomed curl. His eyes molted with
pity and sympathy. “So young and
evidently homeless. No doubt another
of poverty’s stricken children.”
Ite glanced at the litile cold toes, peep
ing out from the worn shoes- the patch
ed hut cleanly dress—and then at the
delicate tapering hands, the nobly shaped
iiead, and the beautiful but pinched feu
tures and interesting face, which, if if,
had possessed the rounded outlines
would have been lovely. Rut care’s
harsh lines had made the face look older
by several years than it really w as.
“A strange contrast,” murmured tho
stranger. “The face «o proud and
almost aristocratic, while tho tattered
clothes, the hard lines of her features,
proclaimed her the child of want, perhaps,
of sin.” As if in answer to his last words,
the tired eyes slowly unclosed and fixel
themselves on the face bending over her
Such eyes they were, violet in hue, black
in intensity, an 7. so weird, fearless and
innocent. Ah! stranger, take back your
unjust thoughts, for surely no sin shines
from those pure, purple depths.
“Buy an orange, please buy an orange,”
sang out a sweet girlish voice.
“I will buy your oranges, littlo one,”
said the traveler, placing more chauge
in her hand than she asked, “but tell me
why yon came into the streets so early.”
“Oh, sir,” and the soft eyes became
dim, the sweet month tremulous, “mother
is very sick and I support her, so I came
out before il was light, that 1 might get
money enough to purchase her breakfast. ”
“You are very young to take care of
your mother,” said the gentleman.
“What is your age, little one ?"
“I am a little more than fourteen,’’
the girl modestly replied, “but I feel
much older, sir.”
A shrill whistle in (irrupted the speak
ers ; the gentleman slipped another piece
of money in the girl’s hand, and walked
hastily away. The money was of shining
gold. The stranger saw not the thankful
light in the pauper’s sad eyes, and he
knew not how deeply he had touched »
childish heart by a little act of kindness.
Edward St- Glair was the second son
of quite an eminent physician, in New
Orleans, long deceased, indeed so long
ago, that Edward, a inan of nearly thirty
summers, could but dHhrjremember the
majestic figure haughty
face i>f the father, passi i inf.>
the spirit laud. %
hearted. "■
and!!,
' 7x J- i
hi if. K-c y sin
would faspect^^^Pl^^HH^row,
IV. KOoWVv
‘ J>. Hill. >
■71875.
! with her pretty hands, his wavy, black
j hair and exclaim, “God grant that it
J may be always thus,” for she knew that,
I when a nature like his was once betrayed,
j it would lose all of its genial brightness.
Did that gentle mother’s heart feel the
coming evil ? In after years Edward
often thought of his beloved mother’s
words when the blight had fallen upon
his heart, almost changing it into a piece
of stone. It was the old story, gentle
reader of slighted love. In life it is, alas!
not uncommon. Love does not always
begot love iu return, and many a flirt or
coquette triumphs in the love “that lies
bleeding low.” About a year after
Edward completed his collegiate course,
lie devoted himself to assiduous study.
His college chums tried in vain to induce
him to go into society.
“No,” he would answer, “my studies
interest me, now, more than anything
else. This kind of life suits me.”
Iu the early winter, a great beauty
came to New Orleans on a visit to some
relatives. Hortenae Delano truly deserv
ed the sobriquet of “Belle and Beauty,"
for her sway over the hearts of the stern
er sex was unlimited, and her beauty was
exquisite.
She became quite the rage ; the ladies
spoke enthusiastically of the rich elegance
of her dressing, the men drank toasts to
her matchless loveliness. Few saw her
without becoming enthused by her many
fascinations. She was indeed a majestic
woman, but, with a character utterly de
void of honor and principle. She was
dependent for her support upon an uncle
whose means were moderate, and whose
children, at his death, would inherit only
a bare competency ; so she determined j
to marry a man of position and wealth. ;
Edward St. Clair, although her junior
by several years, suited her plans exactly.
By a little manoeuvring Hortense became
j acquainted with Mrs. St. Clair, the wife
I of Dr. Robert St. Clair, Edward’s oldest
I brother. Edward first met Miss Delano
;at his brother’s house, and strange
Ito say, he did not like her at first, but
1 almost disliked her. She was too brill
| iant, exhibitingan undue amourproprie,
j and less u(orctc than was compatible
j with his ideas of loveliness. She saw his
avoidance and determined to conquer
him- At last he succumbed, dazzled by
liorTWfuty and wonderful fascinations.
I Edward’s life became full of dreamy
; excitement. He lost all interest in his
i books. They were put aside, and love
! notes were written on the desk whore
1 looks ol science were constantly opened
I tor iiteesUgut-on and sqnly. Ho lingered
i no longer by his mother’s aide as he did
i in times of old, and he noted not, so
\ blind with love v.as lie, that her cheeks
j became more teanspapent every day, and
her form almost painfully attenuated.
He sang, drove and danced with her
! he loved, and the once quiet student be
j came a gay man of society. Hortense
accepted his homage of course, also (he
' hand offered in marriage, for Edward
! was no mean catch, having inherited a
large fortune from u deceased relative,
and apart from that he was of fine birth,
| and possessed a handsome person. Yes,
he suited her. The midnight eyes look
ed passionate love, and the false month
uttered the most earnest vows, and the
queenly head reclined most gracefully
upon the. wildly heating heart.
Alas, for Edward, his dream of bliss
was of short duration. As was frequent
ly the ease, lie attended Ilor euse to a
large ball. She was the. queen of the
evening and had never looked more
beautiful. Her lover was more infatu
ated than ever, hovered near her, danced
with her, or, would remain in some se
cluded corner, feasting his ey.isupon her
beauty. The hand of his cliarmer, be
ing engaged for the remaining dances,
Edward passed into a small refreshment
room, and pushing aside the curtains
from a largo bay window, he placed a
chair in the little recess and sat in a po
sition to enjoy the fresh cool air, which
was very delightful, as the evening was
sultry, although in the winter time. He
rested his head against the window sill,
and, unconsciously fell asleep. He was
aroused by a couple entering the room,
the lady’s rich dress sweeping by him as
she passed to a velvet covered tctc a (etc
placed near a window. Not wishing to
play the part of an eavesdropper, Ed
ward was about to leave Iris place of re
treat, when his name, spoken in the most
sarcastic tone of voice, arrested his in
tended departure.
“And so you are engaged to marry
lid ward St. Clair, Hortense ?” The lis
tener’s brow became painfully flushed as
lie bent eagerly forward to hear her re
ply-
“ Yes, I am engaged to him,” she an
swered, in a hard, cold voice, “but be
lieve me, Gay, lntd I known that we
should have met again, I would rather
have signed my death warrant than have
become his wife.”
“Do you love him, Hortense ?”
“Love him !” and the words came his
sing and bitter through her compressed
lips. “Love him ! Do you ask me that,
Gay ? Have you forgotten our past ? I j
might have loved him had I never met
you, an 1 God knows how much I would I
give to ho once more free.”
“Yon are free and Edward St. Clair
stood before them, his face fearfully
drawn, and pale almost as a corpse,
! with his form quivering with agitation, i
NO. 14.
but with a firm resolve aronud his mouth
most painful to behold. For oue instant
he looked upon her beautiful, false face,
and a half smile of scorn curled his lip,
as he noticed her confusion.
With a firm step he passed from the
room, and out of the house. How he
reached home he scarcely knew. Once
there, lie threw himself in a chair, and
buried his head iu a pile of cushions
that lay near him. The late scene, so
vivid and agonizing, passed before his
disturbed mental vision. Again Kor
tense Delano sat before him in her
queenly beauty, clothed in a costly robe
of crimson velvet, witli golden snakes
coiled round her head, neck and arms.
To Edward’s excited imagination the
crimson robe became a flame of fire,
while the golden snakes writhed and
hissed, darting angry glances at him with
their ruby eyes. In the midst of all this
glitter and confusion gleamed forth the
white, mocking face of the woman Ed
ward had so tenderly loved, so entirely
trusted. He recalled how, at first, the
mad blood dashed through his throbbing
veins, and afterwards the sudden reac
tion to chilly, stony misery. All that
bitter night lie struggled with his an
guish, and long before the genial sun
; shine came H roding into his room, he
I raised his head from where, so many
j hours, it had rested, and Hortense would
have seen by bis calm but pale face, that
lie was tire conquerer. She was as dead
to him as though she slept her last sleep,
under the sweet violets and blue forget
me-nots. That night woe, torturing and
sudden, changed Edward from the light
hearted student to a cold, almost eyui
c.il man. It was only at home lie showed
any affection, but that affection was less
demonstrative, and, in some measure,
different from that of yore, at which his
family marvelled. None but his watch
ful mother knew the cause of the change
and how he had suffered.
Only a short time elapsed when Ed
uard experienced another shock iu the
death of his mother. She was the dear
est tie that bound him to the earth.
After her death lie wandered all over the
world. Every now and then, after a
lapse of years, lie would return to liis
brother’s house, remaining for a short
time, nnd al must'-.breaking the heart of
bis only sister, Anna, by seeming to be
so neglectful of her. Edward was her
darling and pride. vWheu abroad his
letters were her greatest solace, and,
when lie was by her side her cup of
happiness was indeed full.
Alina ofteiy thoiight it was very
singular that a woman of Hortense De
lano’s shallow inteljcct could wreck, by
her witchery, a noble man’s life. How
often the lovely and winning to the eye,
bewitch and 1 fascinate us, and we bow
down to the shrine of beauty “bound to
its altar,” and not, until too late, we
awaken from our dream of bliss, to find
our hopes crushed, our faith blighted,
and hear the distant echoes of the silver
waves of hope and love beating on a
baneu shore. They murmur. No more!
No more!
Having given a brief sketch of our
hero’s early life, we will leave hiuiawliile
to his travels in foreign lands, and
over the blue sea, for when our story
opened the traveler, that paused by the
sleeping girl, was no other than he on his
way to the cars.
(to be CONTINUED. !
CYCLONES.
Graphic Description of the Origin and
J J henornena of a Cyclone or Typhoon
—My Admiral ltaphacl femmes —
Taken from hit Work, “Mcmotrs of
Service Attoat."
In the East Indian and China fleas the
cyclone is called a typhoon. It prevails
there with even more destructive effect
than in the western hemisphere. It
takes its origiu during the change of the
monsoons. Monsoons are periodical
winds which blow one-half of the year
from one direction—-the northeast, for
example—and then change and blow the
other half of the year from the opposite'
direction—the southwest. When these
mobnsoons are changing there is great
disturbance in the atmospheric equilib
rium. A battle of the winds, as it were,
takes place ; the outgoing wind strug
gling for existence, and the incoming
wind endeavoring to throttle it and take
its place. Calms, whirlwinds, water
spouts and heavy and drenching rains
set in ; tne black, wild looking clouds
sometimes rent and torn, sweeping with
their heavy burdens of vapor over the
very surface of the sea. Now, the out
going or dying monsoon will recede for
days together, its enemy, the incoming
moousoou, gradually advancing to occu
py the space left vacant. The retreating
wind will then rally, regain its courage
and drive back, at least for a part of the
way, the pursuing wind. In this way
the two will alternate for weeks, each
watching the other as w arily as if they
were opposing armies. It is during
these struggles, when the atmosphere is
unhinged, as it were, that the typhoon
makes its awful appearance. Every
reader is familiar with the phenomenon
of the miniature whirlwind, which he has
so often seen sweep along a street or !
road, for a short distance and then dia- .
appear, the want of local equilibrium in
the atmosphere, which gave rise to it, l
having been restored. These little
■Aflvt-i-tiwiiig- Halen.
One square, first insertion if 1 UO
Each subsequent insertion 75
One square three months 10 00
One square six months IS 00
One square twelve months 30 00
Quart, r column twelve months 40 (X)
Half column six mouths 00 00'
Half column twelve months 75 00
One column twelve months 125 (H> :
Ten lines or less considered a square,
All fractious of squares are counted as full
squares.
whirlwinds generally occur at street cor
ners, or at cross roads, and are produced
by the meeting of two winds. When
these winds meet the stronger will bend
the weaker and a whirl will ensue. The
two winds still coming on the whirl will
be increased, and thus a whirlwind is
formed which immediately begins to
travel—not at random, of course, but iu
the direction of least pressure. The
meeting of two currents of water, which
form a whirlpool, may be used as another
illustration. It is just so that the ty
phoon is formed. It steps in as a great
conservator of the peace to put an end
to the atmospherical strife which has
been going ou, and to restore harmony to
nature. It is a terrible scourge whilst
it lasts ; the whole heavens seem to be
in disorder, and that which was only a
partial battle between outposts of the
teriel armies has now become a general
engagement. The great whirl sweeps
over a thousand miles or more, aud when
it has ceased nature smiles again; the
old monsoon lias given up the ghost, aud
the new monsoon has taken its place.
All will lie pence now until the next
change—the storms that will occur in
the interval being more or less local.
We have monsoons iu the western hem
isphere, as well us iu the eastern, though
they are much more partial, both iu
space aud duration. The cyclones wiii. h
sweep over the North Atlantic are gen
erated, as has been remarked, to the
eastward of the West India Isles, some
where between them aud the coast of
Brazil. They occur in August, Septem
ber and October, sometimes, indeed, as
early as the latter part of July. In
these mouths, the sun has drawn after
him, into the northern hemisphere, the
southeast trade winds of the South At.
lautie. I hese trade winds are now
struggling with the northeast trade
winds, which prevail in these seas for
three-fourths of the year, for the mas
tery. We have, thus, another monsoon
struggle going ou; and the consequence
of the struggle is the cyclone'. If the
reader, being in the northern hemis
phere, will turn his face towards the sun
at his vising, and watch his course for a
short time ho will observe that this
course is from left to right. As the
course of the arrows in the figureisfrom
right to loft, the reader observes that
gyration of the wind, iu the storm, is
against the course of the sun. This is
an invariable law in both hemispheres,
but iu the southern hemisphere the read
er will not fail to remark that the gyra
tion of the wind is iu the opposite di
rection from its gyration in the uortlkkn
hemisphere for the reason that to iwi Ob
server in the southern hemisphere the
sun appears to be moving not from left
to right, but from right to left. Whilst,
therefore, the storm iu the northern
hemisphere gyrates from right to left, in
tlie southern hemisphere it gyrates from
left to right ; both gyrations being
against the course of the sun.
This is a curious phenomenon, which
has, thus fur, puzzled all philosophers.
It is a double puzzle ; first, why the
storm should gyrate always iu the same
direction ; aud secondly, why this gyra
tion should be different iu the two hem
ispheres. The law seems to be so sub
tle as utterly to elude investigation.
There is a curious phenomenon in the
vegetable world, which seems to obey
this law of storms, aud which I do not
recollect ever to have seen alluded to by
any writer. It may be well known to
horticulturists, for aught that I know
but it attracted my attention in my own
garden, for the first time, since the war.
It is, that all creeping vines, and tendrils,
when they wind themselves from right
to left, or against the course of the
sun 1 * * * *
What is the subtle influence which
produces this wonderful result ? May
it not be the same law which rides ou the
whirlwind and directs the storm. * *
It is the rain which adds such fury to the
wind. These storms come to us, as has
been said, from the tropics, aud the winds
by which they are engendered are highly
charged with vapor. In the course of
taking up this vapor from the sea, the
winds take up along with it a large
quantity of latent heat, or heat whose
presence is not indicated by the ther
mometer. As the raging cyclone is mov
ing onward iu its path the winds begin
to part with their burden—it begins to
rain. Tlie moment the vapor is condens
ed into rain, the latent heat, which was
taken up with the vapor, is liberated,
aud the cousequeuce is the formation of
a furnace in the sky, as it were, over
hauging the raging storm and traveling
along with it. The more rain there falls,
the more latent heat there escapes, the
hotter the furnace becomes, and the hot
ter the furnace the more furiously the
wind races around, the circle, and rushes
into the upper air to fill the vacuum aud
restore the equilibrium.
Ebony wood weighs sixty-two pounds
to the cubic foot; lignum vitae, tlie same;
hick ry, fifty-two pounds ; birch, forty
five pounds ; beech, forty pounds ; yel
low pine, thirty-eight pounds; white
pine, twenty-five pounds'; cork, fifteen
pounds, and water, sixty-two pounds.
A Virginia bridegroom over seven feet
high is announced. The affair created
considerable sensation, but it is believed
she only married him to go chestuntting
with.