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8 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 ?”