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YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT.
ENIGMA—No. 33.
I am composed of 14 letters :
My 14, 11,2, 3,4, 3,14, 11, 6,7, 12,
isthe oldest eity in the U. S.
My 9,2, 14, 11,12* is to spend.
My 13, 5,6, 7,12, is a river in Eu
rope.
My 1,12, 8, is a part of a person.
My 5,2, 9,10, 6,6, is one of the Sand
wich Islands.
My 8, 13, 12, 12, 7, is a color.
My whole is what the Indian word
Minnesota means. Katie.
Answer next week.
ENIGMA—No. 34.
I am composed of 20 letters :
My 1, 11, 18, 7, is a product of this
country.
My 14,15, 3,8, is a useful part of
man.
My 17, 11, 10, 20, is a domestic
fowl.
My 12, 2,7, 6,9, are used on build
ings.
My 13, 14, 5,2, 4, is a bad char
acter.
My 19, 15, 16, 6, is a dandy’s com
panion.
My 15, 7,18, 4, 13, is a term used by
sailors.
My whole is the name of him who, I
hope, will be our next President.
New Orleans, June, 1868. Lizzie.
Answer next week.
ENIGMA—No. 35.
I am composed of 18 letters:
My 6,7, 8,2, is a personal pronoun.
My 15, 2, 13, 17, 18, is a sour fruit.
My 10, 14,15, 15, 14, 8, is a boy’s
name abbreviated.
My 2, 15, 8,3, 2, is the French for
pupil.
My 13, 17, 8,6, 9,8, 5, 15, is a city
in Canada.
My 11, 8, 12, 9, 6, is what we all pos
86SS •
My 7,5, 9,9, 14, 2, 16, is a girl’s
name.
My whole is the name of a Priest dear
to the people of a City in Georgia.
Savannah,Ga.,June, ’6B. Mary Agnes.
Answer next week.
Answers to Last Week’s Enigmas,
&c.— Poetical Charade. —Whip-poor--
Will.
Enigma No. 29—Impeachment—Inca
—Mac—Pacha—Epitaph—Annie—Cheat
.—Ha!—Maniac—Each-—Name —Thane.
No. 30.-—lmpeachment—lce—Mate
Pen—Epithet—Ape—Can—Hen—Mam
ma—Entice—Niece—Tim.
No. 31—Impeachment—Intimate—
M ain—Panic—Eat—Ant—C ap—Pate-
Mine—Etch—Nap—Tin.
No. 32—Impeachment—Inanimate—
Menace—Patin—Ethic [Epic?]—Attic—
Cat—Hate—Mien—Ethic —Net—Tea.
Answers by Correspondents. —The
following answers by correspondents are
correct: Lizzie, N. 0., La., to No. 23;
Lizzie, Irwinton, Ga., to Enigmas Nos. 24,
25, and 26 ; J. S. F., Augusta,. Ga., to
Nos. 29, 30,31, and 32.
[Prepared for the Banner of the South by Uncle Buddy.]
FAMILIAR SCIENCE.
II EAT —CONTINUED.
Some things feel colder than others,
principally because they are better con
ductors, and draw off heat from the
body much faster. Dense solid bodies,
such as metal and stone, are the best
conductors.
The best conductors of heat are silver,
gold, copper, and iron. Lead is not so
good a conductor of heat as the other
metals. Copper is a better conductor
than glass. If the extremities, or ends,
of a rod of copper, and one of glass, be
placed in the fire, and the other ends be
held in the hand, the heat will be found
to ascend rapidly through the copper wire,
while the end of the glass will be com
paratively cool.
The worst conductors of heat am /dl
fur, wool* charcoalo»- Two of
the’worst conductors are hare s
r a the two next worst
ur ? n a"s fur and raw silk ; then wool
, lampblack ; then cotton and fine lint;
then charcoal, wood ashes, etc.
A piece of wood blazing at one end
will not feel hot at the other end, because
wood is so bad a conductor that heat
does not traverse freely through it;
hence, though one end of a stick be
idazing, the other end may be quite cold.
Hot metal feels more intensely warm
than hot wood, because metal gives out
a much greater quantity of heat in the
same space of time, and the influx of heat
is, consequently, more perceptible.
Metal coin, or money, in our pockets
will feel very hot when we stand before a
fire, because metal, as we have already
said, is an excellent conductor, and rap
idly becomes heated. For the same
reason, it rapidly becomes colder when
ever it comes in contact with a body
colder than itself.
A poker, resting on a fender, you will
notice, will foel colder than the hearth
rug, which is farther off from the fire,
because the poker is an excellent con
ductor, and draws heat from the hand
much more rapidly than the woollen
hearth-rug, which is a very bad conductor.
Though both, therefore, are equally warm,
the poker seems to be colder.
An iron pump-handle will feel intense
ly cold in winter, because it is an excel
lent conductor, and draws off the heat of
our hand so rapidly, that the sudden
loss produces a sensation of intense cold
ness. But the iron handle of the pump
is really no colder than the wooden pump
itself; for, every inanimate substance, ex
posed to the same temperature, possesses,
in reality, the same degree of heat. The
reason, then, that the iron handle seems
so much colder than the wooden pump,
is merely beeause the iron is a better
conductor, and, therefore, draws off the
heat from our hand more rapidly than
the wood does.
A stone or marble hearth feels colder
to the feet than a carpet or hearth-rug,
because the former are good conductors,
and the latter are not. The stone hearth
makes our feet feel cold in this way:
As soon as the hearth-stone has absorbed
a portion of heat from our foot, it instant
ly disposes of it, and calls for a fresh sup
ply, till the hearth-stone has become of
the same temperature as the foot placed
upon it.
The woollen carpet and hearth-rug also
conduct heat from the human body, but,
being very bad conductors, they convey
the heat away so slowly that the loss is
scarcely perceptible.
The cold hearthstone is, in reality, of
the same temperature as the warm car
pet ; in fact, everything in the room is
really of one temperature, but some things
feel colder than others, because they are
better conductors.
The hearth-stone will feel cold to the
feet resting on it, until the feet and
hearthstone are of the same temperature;
and then the sensation of cold in the
hearth-stone will subside. The hearth
stone would not feel cold, when it is of
the same temperature as the feet, because
the heat would no longer rush out of our
feet into the hearth-stone in order to pro
duce equilibrium.
The hearth-stone, when the fire is
lighted, will feel hotter than the hearth
rug, because the hearth-stone is an excel
lent conductor, and parts with its heat
very readily; but the woollen hearth
rug, being a bad conductor, parts with its
heat very slowly.
-
[For the Banner of the South,]
“MOTHER GRAHAME.”
[continued.]
He looked at her with increased in
terest : “ Could you ever have seen me
when a boy ?”
“Never since you were a boy, certain
ly, if then. You see my plain costume,
my devotee apparel; well, for twenty
years, it has been unchanged, for my
little boy’s sake, and for God’s sake ”
“You lost a little boy, then, Mrs.
Graham ? Pray tell me, how old he
was.”
“Three years old.”
Mr. Grey’s barouche and grays drove
up to the door, with little Anna inside,
and Clarence with the driver.
“We have come for you, Mother Gra
ham !” said the little voices from the car
riage ; “ali is ready for you, and Clara,
and Rosa, and Eddie, say, l d* come' ”
“Well, jump out, and see Mr. Gra
hame. You must be good friends with
him ; you know he is to be your teacher.”
“Oh, yes, we want to see Mr. Grahanie,
and Papa, too, to tell him about the
wagon and baggage.”
“He rode on to neighbor Hayes’ to at
tend to some business, but will soon re
turn. I will introduce you to the teacher.
have already his
both at the table, where you must eat
some of my peaches and bread.”
“Oh, Mother Graham! you are al
ways so good. Papa says we must love
you dearly , Mother Graham, because you
are so good
“Your Papa ought to know that nobody
is good but God. He told you so, to
recommend me to you, because he knew
I was going over to live with you all.
We must all pray to be good, and try to
be good.”
“Mr. Grahame, Papa gives us some
very hard lessons, himself, sometimes,”
said Max.
“Ah,” said Mr. Grahame; “but here is
3’our Father to speak for himself. Mr.
Grey, Max says you give some very hard
lessons, yourself.”
“Oh, the little rogue; Maxknowsvery
well, the hardest lesson he ever had to
learn, was to keep out of mischief.”
MS9SR ©I IKS SOOTH.
“Motlier Graham,” he continued, “can
you go to-day ? The children are wait
ing very anxiously for your arrival.”
“Yes, I can go as well to-day as any
other time, I believe It is a comfort to
know, that I have nothing to move from
here but my trunks.”
In saying farewell to Mr. Grahame,
she added: “your appearance interests
me, Mr. Grahame. You are, I expect,
about the age that my own son would
have been. I hope we shall see you often
at Mr. Grey’s.”
She gave him the keys; and, after
putting the children in, seated herself, and
they drove off.
The voluble tongues of the children
were busy all the way home.
“Oh, Mother Graham,” said Anna,
“Eddie has fixed a show for you to see
this evening ; and Clara and Rosa have
fixed your rooms so nicely ”
“They have, I know,” said Mother
Graham, “had their little fingers in the
pie. Eddie has a show ; what kind of a
show is it ?”
“Now, Anna, don’t tell /” said Max,
dodging his head in the carriage; “you
know Eddie wants it to surprise Mother
Graham.”
“Mum is the word, then,” said Mother
Graham ; “we will say nothing about it
at all, until it makes its appearance this
evening. Does it walk on its feet, stand
on its head, or what does it look like ?
man, monkey, or beast ?”
“Oh!” said both children, in great
glee, ‘ Mother Graham don’t know any
thing about it! It is so funny! It
does everything and nothing,” added
Max.
When they arrived, Clara and Rosa
were on the steps, and Eddie came in
from the yard, with a hatchet in his
hand, and a hoop trailing after him.
“Oh, my practical boy, what are you
doing: now ?” said Mother Graham.
“I am fixing a jumping hoop for Clara
and Rosa, Mother Graham.”
“And do you know why ?” said Clara.
“He says it is because we call him so
often from his work, to turn the jumping
rope for us.”
11 His work ! Do listen! said Rosa,
“as if he really did so much work !”
“You musn’t discourage him, Rosa,”
said Mother Graham; “Eddie really loves
work —you can see it in him. Os course,
now, it is only in a small way.”
“I think Eddie will be very smart with
his work some of these days,” said Clara.
“I think so, too,” said Rosa, “but I do
think Eddie thinks himself too smart ,
since Papa gave him those tools. You
know what he did last night, sister ?”
“Yes; but don’t tell on him,” said
Clara; “Mother Graham will know all in
good time.”
The little girls showed the cushions
they had made, and the chairs they had
covered anew with chintz for her use. A
new Nubia, of white and black, lay on the
toilet table, which they had also
crotcheted with their own hands for
her.
Mr. Grey, and Mr. Grahame, w’ere
both there at dinner, and the faces of all
the children were lit up with animation
and joy.
This was increased by the pleasant
news Mr. Grey had for them. He was
informed by a friend that Miss Thomas,
their former teacher, was coming out to
spend a few days with them.
“Oh, I am so glad! so delighted !”
went the round of the table.
“I hope you will be pleased, Mr. Gra
hame ?” said Mr. Grey, giving him
rather a sideways look.
“Oh, delighted /” said Mr. Grahame ;
“I would not be so rude as to differ from
those who have known Miss Thomas
much longer than I have.”
“Do you know Miss Thomas, Mr.
Grahame ?” said Clara.
“,Oh, yes, Miss Clara. The few
months I stayed in Athens, I saw Miss
Thomas every day.”
“Every day ?”
“Yes, every day. I boarded in the
same house she did,” said Mr. Grahame;
and he looked very conscious.
.. •- f 10U US ill* to m
nic, while she is here," said Rosa.
“Ask Mother Graham. She is your
guide now, in all such things.”
Every eye turned upon her.
“Do you realize that fact, children ?”
said Mother Graham, with one of her
sweet, motherly smiles. “Most certainly,
I shall give my voice for the pic-nic.”
“And, Mother Graham,” said little
Anna, who sat by her side then, and
always , “I will carry my doll! and she
shall be crowned Queen of May.”
“But suppose,” said Eddie, “she turns
out to be an April fool ?”
“How can that be, brother ?—how can
that be, now ?” said the child, half pout
ing at the idea.
“Why?” said Max, slyly, “because
Miss Thomas may come in April, instead
of May.”
“Hurrah for Max !” said Eddie; “Papa,
he is getting smart."
So the dessert ended in glee, and they
rose from the table.
Mother Graham excused herself from
the children awhile, saying that she
wished to arrange some of her things.
When she went into the room, she
opened her trunk; took some articles,
and laid them on the toilet and in the
drawers. She then put a small writing
desk on the table. Her portfolio, she
unlocked, and read in a notebook, which
she took from it.
Let us also look into the journal.
“I was advised to seek my friends in
Georgia ; and spend my life quietly in
the place , and in the society where I was
born.
“I was soon taught the emptiness of
the world; when I became conscious
enough to look towards it again, I found
it changed and cold.
“The world around me resounded with
my husband’s desertion for a time; then
coolly laid the blame upon my shoulders.
Unconsciously aDd innocently, I had to
bear the burden of what he deliberately,
and in cold-blood, had laid upon me. I
looked upon it, also, as being directed by
One, who never erred; and, therefore,
took the pittance I had left of my father’s
wealth, and turned my steps to the place
that was said to be my native land.”
April 21, 18.—Perhaps I may have
done wrong, in not being more demon
strative myself; in not confiding to
others my hopes and fears, my life and
its troubles; my heart does not reproach
me for this. It is perfectly natural for
man to err in judgment and practice.
God alone guides unerringly. He alone,
in all the universe, is to be trusted with
implicit faith ”
“In good time—in God’s time—when the
breakers of life have been passed ; and
my will becomes quietly His own, when
it lays itself, like a weaned child, in the
hollow of his hand, then Truth will be
allowed to find its level.”
April 25. This was her entry for that
day: “Oh, would that facts, which we
have good authority for believing, and
circumstances, that transpire before our
eyes, were more consistent one with the
other!
“My heart and perceptions tell me, I
have seen him before. Positive fads,
recorded here in my diary, state that they '
went to Cuba, and lived on the Estate, ;
near Havana. Oh, my Heavenly Father,
I know if Thou hast brought him here,
it is that he may find his Mother /”
Just as pleasantly, the time passed on,
from day to day. The children had a
holiday, and the school was not to com
mence for a fortnight. In the meantime,
Mr. Grahame was there daily, either at
dinner, or in the evening.
The children’s boisterous mirth was
guided to a gentler flow, by the influence
of Mother Graham’s mild and judicious
management.
Miss Thomas arrived one bright morn
ing, and was welcomed with delight by
all the family.
Very soon after that, Mr. Grahame
came over to make his morning call; and,
soon after, the children, Miss Thomas, and
Mr. Grahame adjourned to the school
house. They wanted to take a view of
it; and as it was situated in a thick grove
in front of the house, Miss Thomas said
she would “sit there with her work
awhile, and think over the past.”
“Oh, well,” said Mother Graham, “I
think you will find it very pleasant; but
what good can it do to recall the past,
which belongs to God ?”
“It may do good in this way, Mother
Graham,” said Miss Thomas, “by enabling
us to model the present.”
“Oh, well,” said Mother Graham, “you
must not model too much while you are
here, because that will be defrauding our
country air, and country enjoyment, of
its best qualities.”
“Come, go with us, Mother Graham,
won’t you?” said Miss Thomas
“Oh, no; you take the children, 1 see,
they and Mr. Grahame are waiting for
you. Go, my child, and I will have the
ideasure of viewing vou from here ”
1 wnar an lJiwuce you nave over
me, Mother Graham. I feel a thrill pass
through me, as you speak to me; but kiss
me, farewell—l am going to school.”
“Well, learn your lesson well.”
“Happy children!” Mother Graham
said, as they went laughing from the door,
“may our Heavenly Father, who knows
the life of each one, smoothe the rough
paths that they have to tread!” and as she
stood there, really looking at them with
a mother’s eye, she thought:
“My involuntary wish reminds me of an
incident I heard the other day.
“A young girl was going home from
her boarding school, when a good man
said to her : ‘ And I hope, m3 7 dear, you
may be delivered from the crosses of this
life.’ The lady, who had been a mother
to her, said : 1 Oh, I beg you to make no
such wish for her; c/osses are the dis
tinctive marks of God's children .’ ”
[to be continued.]
WIT AND HUMOR.
Why should a printer go hungry, when
he can always convert his work into pi ?
A secret has been admirably defined
as “anything made known to everbody in
a whisper.”
What is the difference between a bill
and a pill?” One’s hard to get up, and
the other’s hard to get down.
The prize ring and the whiskey ring
have both lately been represented “in the
jug.”
Threatening attitudes that never excite
journalistic ire—Raising clubs for news
papers.
When a man and woman are made one
by a clergyman, the question is, which is
the one? Sometimes there is a long
struggle between them before the matter
is finally settled.
An Irish postboy, having driven Sheri
dan in a long stage, during torrents of
rain, the latter said to him, “Pat, are you
not very wet?” “No, please your honor,
but I’m very dry!” was the arch reply.
“’Taint the white, nor yet the black
folks what hab the most influence in dis
world, but the yaller boys,” said old
Aunt Chloe, as she jingled a few gold
coins that had come down from a former
generation.
A Connecticut congregation will no
allow the choir to sing anything they can
not understand. The choir think of re*
taliating upon the “other end” of the
Church.— Boston Post.
Marriage. — A lady who has been
reading law, is in the most fearful and
agonizing doubts regarding the validity
of her marital condition. She says *
“Lotteries are illegal, and marriage is the
greatest lottery in life.
At a collection lately made at a charity
fair, a young lady offered the plate to a
rich man who was noted for his stingi
noss. “I have nothing,” was his curt
answer. “Then take something, sir, you
know I am begging for the poor.”
“Halloa, Steward!” exclaimed a fellow
on one of the steamboats, after having re
tired to bed. “Halloa, Steward!” “What
massa?” “I want to see if these bed
bugs put down their name for this berth
before I did. It not, I want them turned
out.”
“Has that cookery book any pictures ?”
said Miss C. to a bookseller. ‘ No, Miss,
none,” was the answer. “Wh3 T ANARUS, ” ex
claimed the young lady, “where is the use
of telling us how to make a good dinner,
if you give us no plates ?”
“Well, Jones, so 3 7 0 u have been out to
look at Texas. Did you see anything of
our friend Smith while there?” “Yes,
he’s gone deranged.” “Has he?” “Yes,
indeed! he doesn’t know his own hogs
from those of his neighbors 1”
Isn’t it very affecting to behold at a
wedding the sorrow-stricken air of a
parent as he “gives the bride away,”
when you know that for the last ten
years he has been trying to get her off his
hands ?
A Pretty Conceit.— lt was a pretty
conceit of a romantic father, whose name
was Rose, and who named his daughter
“W ild,” so that she grew up under the
appellation of “Wild Rose” But the
romance of the thing was sadly spoiled
when she married a man by the name of
“Bull.”
Figaro tells of a gay young American
belle, whose name Napoleon asked on the
occasion of her presentation dt court.
“Helen,” she replied. “I could wish,
mademoiselle, that I were Paris,” gal
lantly returned the Sovereign. “Impos
sible, sire, since you are France!” said
she, with ready wit.
A youth, on his first visit to Port
land, saw the land across the harbor, and
cried to his father, “Oh, father, haintthat
Cuba over there, where all the molassci
and oranges come from ?” The noble
sire turned upon his offspring,
and, with a dignified and scornful expres
sion, anexroroU . "ifu, you fool; Cuba is
more than forty miles from here.”
A touching story of connubial affec
tion comes from New Hampshire. An
aged couple, who, during half a century
ot married life, had wrangled and quar
reled with each other, were, in all proba
bility, soon to be separated. The old
husband was taken sick, and was believed
to be near his end. The old spouse,
thinking that her old man required her
pious offices, came to his bedside, and, af
ter carefully examining and taking stock
of his condition, exclaimed:
“Wy, daddy, 3’our feet are cold, and
your hands are cold, and your nose is
cold.” J
“Wa’al let ’em be cold!” “Wy, dad
dy, you’re going to die!” “Wa’al, I guess
1 know wot I’m about!” “Wv, daddy,
wot’s to become of me if 3 7 0 u die?” “I
dunno, and I don’t care. Wot I want to
know is, wot’s to become of me ?”