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YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT.
The Bee’s Sermon.
Good morning. d«ar friends, I’in a clever young bee,
And a sermon I’ll preach, if you 11 listen to mo,
It will not be long, and it will no * ( t r y»
And your own common sense my remarks may apply
Not slothful in business must be the first head.
For with vigor we work till the sun goes to bed;
And unless one is willing to put forth one’s powers,
There is no getting on in a world such as ours.
Wo are fond of our dwellings; no gossips are we,
No gadders about idle neighbors to see;
And though we are forced for our honey to roam.
We come back as soon as we can to our home.
“The way to be happy, and healthy, and wise,
Is early to rest and early to rise.”
This proverb has moulded our conduct for years,
And we never sleep when the daylight appears.
If you were to peep in our hives, you would own
That as models of cleanliness they might be shown;
All dust and all dirt, without auv delay,
Is swept from our door and transported away.
Ventilation most thorough our domicile share.
Ho one need teach us the worth of fresh nil-;
For we could not live, as we’ve heard peoplp do,
In close rooms whero no health-giving breeze can pass
through.
When one of our number is sick or distressed,
He is sure of kind treatment from each of the rest;
Wo sympathize warmly with those who’re in grief,
And aro eager to proffer immediate relief.
And lastly—for here my remarks ought to cease—
The bees, as a nation, are bent upon peace;
You are ready to question this statement, I know,
And to ask why we carry- our stings where we go.
We carry our stings, not on any pretence
For aggressive attack, but in pure self-defence;
We meddle with no one. and only repel
Assailants who will not in peace with us dwell.
Now my sermon is ended, and you, if you please,
Some hints may derive from us hard-working bees:
May your life be as useful, your labors as sweet,
And may you have plenty of honey to eat,
ENIGMA—No 16.
I am composed of 18 letters.
My 14, 9,0, 2,4, is a cape on the west
coast of Ireland.
Mv 15, 8, 11, 11, 0, 13, is to diminish.
My 9,2, 12, 4, is the name given to
the den of a wild beast.
My 7, 17, 1,8, is a color for painting.
My 11, 0,5, 13,8, is the name of a
river in France.
My 7,6, 8, is an insect.
My 1, 10, 7,5, 13, is a part of a ship.
My 10, 10, is an interjection.
My 11, 2,9, 15, 5,8, is a girl’s name
abbreviated.
My 3, 5. 1,0, is an article of food.
My 2, 13, is an indefinite article.
My 14, 8, 18, 0, 11, is one of the ter
restrial deities.
My 9, 16, 13, 0, is a narrow passage.
My whole is the name of one of the
“ brightest stars” of the sunny South.
“ Minnie.”
Sharon , Ga., May 5, 1868.
ENIGMA—No. 17.
I am composed of 28 letters :
My 9,13, 17, 21, 24, 2, was the name
of an Italian painter.
My 22, 7,5, 12, 24, 24, was the name
of a Southern hero.
My 15, 18, 22, 23, is the name of one
of the celestial deities.
My 11, 8, 19, is the name of a Chinese
plant.
My 7,5, 3,2, 13, is the name of a
bird.
My 1,9, 13, 27, 26, 21, is the name of
a girl abbreviated.
My 2,4, 25, 0, 21, is the name of a
musical instrument,
My 4,2, 10, 10, 5, is the name of an
animal.
Mv 20, 12, 2, 24, 21, li, is the name
of a tlower.
My 14, 9, G, 19,16, 22, is to fatigue.
My 28, 12, 13, 17, 80, is the name of
an Indian plant.
Mv whole is one of the saddest lines in
a most beautiful song, composed by
Thomas Moore. “ Eel a.’
Sharon, Ga., May, 1808.
♦ * •
Answers to Last Week's Enigmas,
Etc. — Charade —Ear Ring—The bells
ring and the sound steals upon the ear, while
the bride wears the ear-ring, her “ good
father gave.
Poetical Puzzle —Tobacco.
Enigma No. 14. —Robert Edmund
Lee—Rent—Out—Beer —Eel—Rome—
Tunnel—Elm—Dumb —More-—Urn—
Nod —Drum—Lumber —Ellen —Ebb.
Enigma No. 15.—Jefferson Davis—
Jean—Friend-—Son—Nero—Verde —
Eoree —Sosa —liaison—Fear.
We have correct answers to Enigmas,
as follows :
M. J. H., Mebanville, N. C.; A. E. R.,
Savannah, Ga. ; A. M. G., Knoxville,
Term.; A. P. Z., Savannah, Ga., and M.
O’C.—all to Nos. 11 and 12.
J. 8., Charleston, S. C., toConundrum
No. 2, is nearly correct.
Our young contributors, “Richard” of
Selma, Ala , who seut in Enigma No.
is only 13 years old; and “Mattie” of
New Orleans, is but 12 years. Her
father, writing to us, says: “Ihe Chil
dren’s Department is a captivating one for
our wee little folks, and they all join in wish
ing hearty success to the Banner of the
South, in which their parents cordially
join.”
From other quarters we receive evi
dences of gratification with this Depart
ment of the Banner, and shall strive to
make it an interesting and instructive
feature of the paper. We shall be pleased
to hear from our young readers often.
[Prepared for the Banner of the South by Uncle Buddy.
FAMILIAR SCIENCE
HEAT.
There are many things which, when
their chemical constitution is changed)
either by the abstraction of their gases?
or the combination of others not before
united, evolve heat while the change is
going on. 4 his is what is meant by
chemical action being the source oi heat.
Heat expands or enlarges the dimen
sions of substances generally. This efiect
could have been seen recently on the
Augusta and Summerville Railroad—
some portions of the track oi which was
so expanded as to render the passage of
the cars over it difficult.
Liquids expand by heat as well as
solids. The particles of which *.hey are
formed are not so firmly held together by
cohesion as the particles of solid bodies ;
they, therefore, more readily expand by
heat.
Os liquids, water expands most on the
application of heat. A cubic inch oi boiling
water, when changed into steam, expands
to nearly afoot. That is, it expands to
about seventeen hundred times its origi
nal bulk.
The difference between gases and
liquids is that the former arc very elastic
while the latter are not.
To illustrate the meaning of the elas
ticity of gas, let us suppose Mi at from a
vessel full of gas half were ' taken out,
the other half would immediately spread
itself out, and fill the same space as was
occupied by the whole.
Now, to show that a liquid is not very
clastic, if from a gallon of water you take
half, the remaining four pints will take
up only half the room that the whole
gallon previously did. A liquid, there
fore, is not elastic like gas. Strictly
speaking, however, a liquid is slightly
elastic, inasmuch as it may he compressed,
and will afterwards recover its former
•
dimensions.
Heat expands air, also. Thus, lor ex
ample, if a bladder, nearly filled with
air, be tied up at the neck and laid before
the fire the air will expand till the bladder
bursts, because the heat of the fire will
drive the particles of air apart from each
other, and cause them to occupy more
room than they did before.
A ball of lead, as you know, if thrown
into a pail of water will sink to the bottom,
while a cork of the same size will swim
on the surface. This is because the lead
is heavier and the cork lighter than the
same bulk of water.
And in the same way, a ball of cork
will fall through the air, while a soap
bubble of the same size will ascend. This
is because the cork is heavier and the
soap bubble lighter than the same hulk
of air. It is true that the soap bubble is
filled with air, or rather the breath,
which is warm-air, and, as heat expands
all bodies, the air in the soap bubble is
made to occupy a larger space than the
same quantity of air outside of the bubble,
and for this reason it is rendered lighter.
If the air forced through the pipe were
of the temperature of the surrounding
atmosphere, the bubbles would not rise,
because the air inside of the bubbles being
of the temperature of the surrounding
atmosphere, the air contained in them
would weigh as much as the same bulk
of air outside of the bubbles.
Balloons ascend because they are filled
with air lighter than the same hulk of
i air surrounding the balloon.
O
MBEffi ©t Tii
CATHERINE M’AULEY.
The Sister Os TVlercy.
BY JAMES PARTON.
Catherine Elizabeth McAuley was
born in 1757, near Dublin. Her father
was a mau of small independent fortune
and the descendant of a line of Catholic
ancestors. Though he died when his
daughter Catherine was only seven years
of age, one custom of his made an indeli
ble impression on her mind. It was his
habit on Sundays and holidays to collect
the poor of the neighborhood and give
them instruction in the requirements of
their religion. Her mother, it appears,
was a woman of fashon, who was far from
approving her husband’s Sunday schools.
“ How is this, sir ? ” she would say,
when she saw the swarm us ragged pu
pils approaching. “Must my house be
come a receptacle for every beggar and
cripple in the country ? It is certainly
very unsuitable for a gentleman in your
position to continue these absurdites. I
don’t know how you can employ your
self with these low, ignorant creatures.”
The little Catherine listened every
week to these altercations, and, though
fondly attached to her mother, always
sided in her heart with her father. Four
years after her father’s death,, when
Catherine was eleven years of age, her
mother also died. Her death bed, we
are told, was terrible, and she died in all
the agonies of remorse. The scene, we
are informed, impressed the mind of the
young girl all the more from the contrast
it afforded to the joy and tranquility ol
her father’s death, and it was one of the
most powerful incentives to her future
life of piety, and benevolence. The
death of her mother left her a poor or
phan; for the estate which her father left
had been mismanaged, and lost through
her mother’s inexperience and profusion.
She was taken home by a relative, who
afterward became so poor, that she suffer
ed from want of food.
At sixteen she was one of the most
beautiful girls in Ireland. She was beau
tiful at all periods of her life. Her form
was erect and symmetrical, and her noble
countenance beamed with intelligence and
benevolence. Her portrait, taken in life,
shows her to have been a most comely,
and grand-looking woman ; and l can
well believe that, in her youth, she must
have been splendidly beautiful. Her
hand was sought in marriage by many
admirers, but neither then or at any fu
ture time did she show any inclination to
matrimony.
When she was living in these narrow
circumstances at the house of her relative
who was a surgeon, there came to live in
the village a gentleman, with his wife,
who had made a large fortune in the
East Indies. They bought a handsome
house near by. and soon became acquaint
ed with the family with whom Catherine
lived. In the course of a few months
they became so attached to this interest
ing girl, that their chief happiness seemed
to be in her society, and they finally off
ered to adopt her as their daughter and
heiress. The offer was accepted, and
she was soon established as an inmate in
a sumtuous and elegant abode. As she
grew in years her attention was drawn
more and more to the deplorable condi
tion of the poor. Ireland swarms with
the poor ; and the wonder is, not that
Catherine McAuley should have devoted
her life to their relief, hut that any
wealthy person in the country should sit
down to enjoy life amid such scenes, con
tent to witness misery without making an
effort to relieve it.
Visiting one of the parish schools of
Dublin, she noticed with pain many of the
pupils insufficiently clad. Instead of giv
ing them clothes, which she might easily
have done, she rendered them a better
service by going to the school, and teach
ing the girls to sew. Many of them were
soon able, not only to make and mend
their own clothing, hut to do plain and
fancy knitting, the sale of which was a
benefit to their parents. She establish
ed, also, a repository in one of the school
rooms for the sale of the articles made by
the girls, and induced her friends to come
and purchase them. When she had es
tablished this system in one school and
saw all its pupils well clad, she introduc
ed it into others, and was thus a great
benefactor to the poor of Dublin.
Her attention was also powerfully
called to the ease of poor girls who need
protection against the danger to which
poverty and beauty expose them; and
she long cherished the pro ject of estab
lishing a home for such—a kind of be*
nevoleut intelligence office, in which they
could be sheltered until respectable em
ployment could be obtained for them.
Her adopted father asked her one day
what she intended to do after his death?
“ I think,” said she, “ I shall take a
small house, and support a few poor wo
men, whom I could instruct, and teach
to work."
“ How much do you think,” he asked,
“ would support such an establishment ? ’
“I think,” she replied, after a little re
flection, “the interest of a thousand
pounds would be quite sufficient.
“Catherine,” said be, “ your desires
are very moderate ; but if you ever possess
wealth you will do good with it.”
Not long after this conversation her
adopted parents died, and she found her
self the sole heiress of their wealth. It
consisted of an annuity of six hundred
pounds a year, thirty thousand pounds in
money, the mansion in which she lived,
several policies of life insurance, and a
considerable quantity of jewels and plate
—a fortune equivalent to more than half
a million dollars of our present currency.
She was then thirty five years of age.
The sudden acquisition of wealth is one
of the severest trials to which poor
human virtue can be subjected. Cathe
rine McAuley bore this trial nobly. She
dressed more plainly than before, and
was more assiduous than ever in her la
bors for tiie relief and instruction of the
poor around her. Unsatisfied with these
comparatively desultory efforts, she now T
determined to carry out her early dream
of founding an institution in which poor
children could he taught to read and sew,
and in which servants of good character
might, when out of employment, find a
temporary home. Aided by the advice
of an excellent priest, she purchased the
necessary ground for £5,000 sterling,
and employed an architect to construct
the edifice. She told the architect that
she wanted three or four large rooms for
poor schools ; four large sleeping rooms
for poor young women ; one large and
lofty apartment for a chapel; and a few
small rooms for any ladies who might
wish to aid her in taking care of the poor.
In due time the building was finished.
She sold her handsome abode, dismissed
her carriage and servants, and went to
reside in the institution she had founded.
The first inmate painfully illustrated
the need of such an institution. Visiting
the sick one day in a po;>r lane, she saw
a little ragged child crying bitterly.
Her parents, she learned upon inquiry,
had just died in a cellar, and the land
lord had thrust the child into the streets
to make way for some new comers to
whom he had rented it. Miss McAuley
took the child in her arms, in all its rags
and filth, and carried it home.
It had never been her intention to
found a convent, still less anew Order of
Religious Sisters. The institution
seemed, however, to take that form by a
kind of nececity, The ladies who came
to assist her in teaching the children
and. in caring for her poor women, fell in
to the habit, first of taking a plain meal
in the institution as a matter of conveni
ence. Some of them necessarily slept
there ; and as they wore all devoted
Catholics, their life within the institution
gradually arranged itself after the
manner of convents. In a short time,
through the agency of her Archbishop,
the Pope gave the institution his special
attention, and established anew order of
nuns called the Sisters of Mercy. The
ladies assumed nun-like dress, made the
usual vows of chastity and poverty, and
gave themselves up lor life, to the holy
work of solacing the miserable, and in
structing the ignorant.
Various circumstances contributed to
give immediate celebrity and success to
her institution. The spectacle of a lady
of rank, wealth and beauty, renouncing
the pleasures of the world, and dedica
ting her existence to the poor and miser
able, is one which always captivates the
immagination. Daniel O’Connell, too
who was in the zenith of his renown, be
came acquainted with the new Order, and •
pronounced some fine eulogiums upon it 1
in his public addresses. When the Order
was but five years old, the first cholera
broke out in Ireland. Never has there
been a more terrible scourge. For a
considerable time, the deaths in Dublin
averaged six* hundred a day, and the
whole city was in consternation. Such
was the terror of the people at the awful
mortality in the hospital, that they con
ceived the impression that the doctors
were murdering the people, and large
numbers refused to allow their sick to be
treated by them.
Then it was that the Sisters of Mercy
exhibited the most sublime and heroic I
benevolence. They did not visit the j
hospitals: they lived in them ! Some
of them remained in the hospitals for.
months at a time, and they never dis- !
continued their exertions as long as!
there was a patient to he benefit.! and by
them. It is a remarkable fact that not
one of the Sisters of Mercy took the dis
ease, although when, some years alter,
Ireland was desolated by famine and
fever, many of them perished.
Catherine McAuley lived fifty-four
years. Toward the end of her long sick
ness, her joy, it is said, became rapture ;
and when one of her friends asked her if
she felt any of that fear of death which
she had once experienced, she said :
“Isl had thought death could be so
sweet, T never should have feared :t >
Some of the religious practices and be
liefs of this remarkable woman were :
such as Protestants cannot approve. For
example, she was in the habit, toward the
close of her life, of whipping herself as a
mortification for her sins. On the day
before she died, she gave her whip to
one of her sisters, while it was still wet
with her blood, and ordered her to put it
in the fire, and see that it was burned.
On the same day, she gave to another
sister a parcel carefully tied up, which
contained her shoes, which she had also !
converted into means of torture. Her
amiable and gifted biographer tells us,
that when life was extinct, her shoulders
were found to be scarred, and her feet
lacerated. These things are all foreign
to our conceptions of what is right and
proper; nevertheless, she thought other
wise ; and it is-the fundamental principle
of Protestanism to leave every one free
to work out his soul’s purification in the
way he finds most suitable.
Her mortifications of this kind were a
secret known to herself, and she always
discouraged penances, which lowered the
tone of the bodily health, and incapaei
ated the sisters for endurance. During
the hours of recreation, she was one of
the merriest of the merry—she w uld
sing a lively song, tell a funny story,
and relate her early experiences in the
world to the delight of all who heard her
and she would write merry letters, in
rhyme, to the Sisters in other convents.
PRESIDENTS, VICE-PRESIDENTS, &C.
The following list of Presidents, vice
Presidents, and candidates for these offices
since the formation of our government, is
worth preserving.
1789. George Washington and John
Adams, two terms, no opposition.
1797. John Adams, opposed by
Thomas Jefferson, wiio, having the nos:
highest electoral vote, became Wee-
President
1801. Thos. Jefferson and Aaron
Burr; beating John Adams and Chas.
C. Pinckney.
1805. Thos. Jefferson and Georc ■
Clinton ; heating Chits. C. Pinckney am 1
Rufus King.
1809. James Madison and George
Clinton ; heating (bias. C. Pinckney.
1813. James Madison and El bridge
Gerry; beating DeWitt Clinton
1817. James Monroe and Daniel D.
Tompkins; beating Rufus King.
1821. James Monroe and Daniel D.
Tompkins; beating John Quincey Adams
1825. John Quincey Adams and John
C. Calhoun; beating Andrew Jackson,
Henry Clay, and Win. 11. Crawford,
there being four candidates for President,
and Albert Gallatin for Vice-President.
1829. Andrew Jackson and John C.
Calhoun ; heating Johu Quincy Adams
and Richard Rush.
1833. Andrew Jackson and Marti
| Van Buren ; beating Henry Clay, John
Floyd, and William Wirt, for President
and Wm. Wilkins, John Sergent, and
Henry Lee, for Vice-President.
1837. Martin A r an Buren and Richard
M. Johnson ; beating Wm. IT. Harrison,
| Hugh L. White, and Daniel Webster, for
President, and John Tyler, for Vice
President.
1841. William H. Harrison and John
Tyler; heating Martin Van Buren and
Littleton W. Tazewell. [Harrison died
one month after his inauguration, and
John Tyler became President for the rest
of the term. ]
1845. James K. Polk and George M
Dallas; beating Henry Clay and Thro.
Frelinghuysen.
1848. Zachary Taylor and Milliard
Fillmore ; heating Lewis Cass and Marti:
Van Buren, for President, and, Wm. O.
Butler and Charles F. Adams, for Vice
President. [Taylor died July 9, 1855
and Filmore became President ]
1853. Franklin Pierce and W. K
King; beating Winfield Scott and 31. A.
Graham.
1857. James Buchanan and John C.
Breckenridge ; beating John C. Freni; i:
and Milliard Filmore, for President, and
Wm. A. Dayton, and A. J. Donelson, for
Vice-President.
1861. Abraham Lincoln and Han
bal Hamlin ; heating John Bell, Steph
A. Douglas, and John C. Breckenridge.
for President, and Edward Everett, ller
schcll V. Johnson, and Joseph Lane f>r
Vice-President.
1805. Abraham Lincoln and Andrew
Johnson; beating Geo. B. McClellan and
Pendleton. [Lincoln assassinated, April
14, 1805, and Johnson assumed the
Presidency, j
“Why don’t you get married ?” said a
young lady the other day to a bachelor
friend “l have been trying for the last
ten years to find someone who would he
silly enough to have me,” was the
“I guess you haven’t been up our way,
she smilingly said.