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YOUTHS' DEPARTMENT.
ENIGMA— No. 48.
[Accept the following Enigma, as the
first effort of a little girl]:
I am composed of 14 letters.
My 8,5, 11, we could not live with*
out.
My 10, 1,8, 13, 14, is the name of
a small plant.
My 9,8, 11, 5,8, is the name of a
girl.
My 1, I*2, 13, 2, is the game of a
flower.
My 1, 12, 9,2, is a city in Georgia.
My 6, 12, 3,2, is found in every
human heart.
. My 8,9, is a neuter verb.
My 2,8, 11, is a part of the head.
My 14, 2,5, 3,2, is a utensil used in
the manufacture of flour.
My 7,2, 2, is a river in Ireland.
My 2, 6,’ 7,8, is a girl’s name, ab
breviated.
My whole is the name of a zealous mis
sionary, dear to all who know him, in Sa
vannah, Ga. • Stonewall.
Answer next week.
Savannah, Ga., Aug., 1868.
ENIGMA No. 49.
I am composed of 29 letters.
My 16, 4, 26, is the name of an
animal
My 18, 22, 5, 20, 19, is a man’s
name.
My 12, 25, 1, is something to wear.
My 25, 3, 22, is a sharp instrument.
My 21, 1, 14, 16, is not very sweet.
My 26, 6, 29, is a metal.
My 12, 2, 19, 18, is a musical instru
ment.
My 9, 27, 8, 11, 17, 19, is one of
the seasons.
My 12, 28, 14, 16, is a portion of
the day.
My 2, 23, 15, is an insect.
My 29, 13, 24, is an adverb.
My whole is the name of what the
Southern States have been suffering from
for the past few years. Lena.
Answer next week.
Savannah, Ga., IS6B.
ENIGMA No. 50.
1 am composed of 18 letters :
Mv 2,4, 6, 12, is a part of the body.
My 1,2, 14, is a refreshing drink.
My 11, 14, 18, is an organ of sense.
My 7,8, 14, 18, 1, 14, 6, is a fourth.
My 8, 15, 3, is a French word, signi
fying one.
* My 16, 14, 2, 14, 1, is an Island in
Massachusetts Bay.
My 12, 17, 14, 1,2, is what we all
dread.
My 4,5, 10, 15, 17, 1, is a musical
instrument.
My 13, 14, 1,5, 16, is a badge of
office.
My whole is the name of a celebrated
Southern Poem. Sallie.
Answer next week.
.S''. Joseph’s Acajem.j, ColicrobvA, Ga-, 13CS.
REBUS.
[Sequel to the one in No. 22.]
Can’t put * there is such a- der.
1 * 11.
Answer next week.
Macon , Ga., 1868.
• —-
Answers to Last Week’s Enigmas,
etc. — To Enigma No. 46 —Reverend
Thomas O’Reily—Mother —The- Lead—
No—Moth—Lee —Dean —Mary—Sam
—Read—Thames —Oh!—Mash —Salmon
—Relieve —lreland—Italy—Mayo—
Rome—Sherman.
To Enigma No. 47.—“ Through Eden
took their solitary way”—Edward—
Mollie—Son —Hurrah! —Heir —Tigris—
Hiudoston —Yes—Your.
To Poetical Charade —Mar—Tyre—
(Martyr.)
To Square Word. —
PINE
IDOL
NOEL
ELLS
Answers by Correspondents.—Fan
nie Wall, Columbus, Ga., to Enigma No.
43 ; H., Macou, Ga., to Rebus in No. 22.
Prepared for the Banner of tlie South by Uncle Buddy.]
FAMILIAR SCIENCE.
H EAT —CONTINUED.
The inner vessel would boil if the outer
vessel contained boiling brine, because
brine will not boil till it is raised to 218°
or 22cp. Therefore, 212° of beat may
easily pass through it, to raise the vessel
immersed in it to 212°, which is the
boiling point of water.
Brine will impart to another vessel
more than 212® of heat, and water not
so much, because no liquid can impart so
high a degree of heat as its boiling tem
perature; as water boils at 212°, it
cannot impart 212® ol heat; but as
brine will not boil without 518° of beat,
it can impart enough to make water boil.
Liquids can impart no extra heat after
they boil, because all extra heat is 6pent
in making steam. Hence, water will not
boil a vessel of water immersed in it, be
cause it cannot impart to it 212® of heat,
but brine will, because it can impart
more than 212® of heat before it is itself
converted into steam.
Degrees.
Ether boils at 96
Alcohol at 176
W T ater at 212
Water with one-fifth salt 219
Syrup at 221
Oil of Turpentine at 316
Sulphuric Acid at 620
Mercury at 662
Any liquid which boils at a lower de
gree can be made to boil if immersed in
a liquid which boils at a higher degree
Thus a cup of ether can be made to boil
in a saucepan of water; a cup of water
in a saucepan of brine or syrup. But a
cup of water will not boil if immersed in
ether; nor a cup of syrup in water.
EVAPORATION.
By Evaporation is meant the transfor
mation of liquid, and, in some cases, of
solid substances, into a gaseous state, by
the action of heat.
Evaporation is effected by the weath
er. It is greatest when the weather is
dry and warm.
All liquids do not evaporate with the
same rapidity. Ether evaporates more
rapidly than alcohol, and alcohol more ra
pidly than water.
The evaporation of any liquid may be
increased by increasing the surface. Wa
ter will evaporate more rapidly if poured
into a saucer than if put into a bottle,
because a larger surface is exposed to the
action of the air when in the saucer.
The liquid vaporized absorbs heat from
the body whence it issues; and the body
deprived of the liquid by evaporation,
loses heat.
A glass bottle containing water may
be cooled by wrapping it in a wet cloth,
because the evaporation of the moisture
of the cloth would absorb the heat from
the water in the bottle. If the cloth
were dipped in Alcohol, instead of water,
the water in the bottle would be rendered
colder. Ether, which is more volatile
than alcohol, would produce a still great
er degree of cold.
If you wet your finger and hold it up
iu the air, it feels cold, because the mois
ture on the fiuger quickly evaporates, and
as it evaporates absorbs heat from the
finger, making it feel cold.
If you bathe your temples with ether,
it will allay inflamation and feverish heat,
because ether evaporates very rapidly,
and, as it evaporates, absorbs heat from
the burning head, producing a sensation of
cold.
Ether is better for this purpose than
water, because ether requires less heat to
convert it into vapor by 100° of heat;
but water requires 212° of heat to convert
it into steam.
Ether will very greatly relieve a scald
or burn, because it evaporates very rapid
ly, and, as it evaporates, carries off the
heat of the burn. We feel cold when we
have wet feet or clothes, because the
moisture of our seoes or cloths rapidly
evaporates, and as it evaporates, absorbs
heat from our body which makes us feel
cold.
Wet feet or cloths give us “cold,” be
cause the evaporation of the moisture
absorbs heat so abundantly from the sur
face of our body that its temperature is
lowered below its natural standard, in
consequence of which health is injured.
It is dangerous too, to sleep in a damp
bed, because the heat is continually ab
sorbed from the surface of our body, to
convert the damp of the sheets into va
por; in consequence of which, even the
animal heat is reduced below the healthy
standard. Health is injured when the
temperature of the body is reduced below
its natural standard, because tho balance
of the circulation is destroyed ; blood is
driven away from the external surface
by the chill, and thrown upon the
internal orgaus, which are oppressed by
this increased load of blood.
We do not feel the same sensation of
cold if we throw a thick covering over
our wet clothes, because the thick cover
ing, being air tight, prevents evaporation
and, as the moisture cannot evaporate, no
heat is absorbed from our bodies.
Sailors, who are frequently wet with
sea water all day”, do not get cold, be
cause: Ist, The salt of the sea retards
evaporation, and, as the heat of their
body is drawn off generally, the sensation
of cold is prevented; and, 2d. The salt
of the sea acts as a stimulant, and keeps
the blood circulating near the surface of
the body.
Sprinkling a hot room with cold water
will cool it, because the heat of the room
causes a rapid evaporation of the sprink
led water; and, as the water evaporates,
it absorbs heat from the room which
cools it. In very hot countries it is cus
tomary to sit in rooms separated by cur-
SS&SSBSI ©lf &MS} ©©MiilSa
tains, instead of walls, or doors, and to
keep these curtains continually sprinkled
with water, because curtains are bad con
ductors of heat, and the rapid evaporation
of w’ater reduces the temperature of
the room ten or fifteen degrees.
[From the Louisville Conrier.]
Let Us Have Peace.
The Southern winds that gently blow
Are laden with a cry of woe.
They waft ten million freemen’s sigha,
While lond, a mocking spirit cries:
Let ns have peace!
Pale Liberty has veiled her face,
To hide from sight the fonl disgrace ;
And trembles aa the unsheathed swords
Ring plaudits to those mocking words :
Let us have peace!
Affrighted Justice, nerveless stands,
Her balance grasped with trembling hands,
While bayonets guard her sacred hall,
Where drums roll out the mocking call:
Let us have peace I
Lost Union walks with mournful tread
Among the graves where he her dead;
And chants a hopeless requiem there,
While mocking spirits shout in air:
Let us have peace!
Reunion with the cypress weaves
Her budded, but now faded leaves;
Her blighted blostoms wide are cast,
Before that chilling, mocking blast:
Let us have peace!
The Nation sinks beneath the weight
Os endless debt and ruined State.
Taxation makes its fierce demand.
While armies shout throughout the land .
Let us have peace.
“ Peace reigns in Warsaw-”—o’er the dead,
“ The Empire’B peace”—with freedom fled ;
So stalks the conqueror through our land,
And shouts, with flaming sw-ord in hand :
Let us have peace I
For the Banner of the South.
THE OLD CLOCK.
“ Ah! how cruelly sw-eet are the echoes that shirt,
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart.”
I was a strange child. My father al
ways said so, and the servants used to
look at me, shake their heads, and mur
mur : # “A good little thing, but so queer.”
I heard this fact so often, that I began to
feel as weird as the three witches in Mac
beth, and shrank more and more into my
shell of reserve. Had I been born too late ?
Did I belong to a former age, that it was
so impossible for any one to comprehend
me ? Was I really a living enigma, or
—a witch ? Dreadful thought ! I rushed
to my doll and asked her, in an agitated
voice, if I were truly a witch in embryo,
and if she were afraid of me? But she
looked so calm, and seemed so innocent
of entertaining such a horrible suspicion,
that I at length banished it from my
thoughts.
I had no companion to whom I could
confide my joys and sorrows. How much
I wished, at times, for some friend to ad
mire with me the ivy creeping up the
walls of our dear old homestead! or,
watch the rooks, as they built high up in
the trees, and wonder if the poplars would
keep on growing till they reached heaven,
so little angels could fly down among the
upper branches and play their harps for
the '“ children of men”—heard but not
seen.
My father loved me, I have no doubt,
but lie never thought children had any
sorrows. He was a gloomy, austere man
since my mother and grandpapa died.
In fact, everything connected with grand
papa was considered sacred. The furni
ture in his room, I heard, had never been
moved since his death, and the door was
kept locked. Once I came very near
getting a peep into bis sanctum. I was
walking slowly down the hall, with my
dear doll in my arms, singing a low lulla
by, when I suddenly noticed the old oaken
door slightly ajar. I was just on the eve
of pushing it open, when 1 heard within
footsteps approaching. Dreadfully alarm
ed, I ran across the hall, and ensconced
myself behind a large old fashioned clock
that stood in the corner. There I
crouched, pale and trembling, till I heard
my father come out, turn the key, and
his retreating footsteps announce his de
parture. 1 sat there a long time won
dering if I should have to die, like grand
papa, and if I chanced to go to heaven,
would God put wings on me ? I hoped
not, for I was sure they would make my
shoulders itch. These and a thousand
other ideas crowded upon me, till I be
came weary of thinking, and sat listen
ing unconsciously to the busy ticking of
the old clock. At last, I became more
attentive, and its pleasant voice entered
my heart, like a ray of sunshine, lighting
up aud warming its little dark, cold
nooks. I walked around and stood in
front of it. Never before had I noticed
how venerable and benevolent it looked
with its face of mysterious figures, or how
joyously, below, the great brass pendulum
swung back and forth, singing so cheerily
all the time! I pressed my little face
against the glass door, and said, in a timid
whisper ; “We’re so lonely—-Dollie and
I—will you be our friend ?” And the
tall clock answered sweetly, “ Yes, my
dear.” I believe I felt happier then than
I ever did in my life.
The compact was sealed. I had a
friend, at last, who would never laugh at
me, or grow mysterious at my sayings—
never think me quaint and odd, for
wasn’t it quaint and odd, too ? This was
a delightful idea. Day after day, Doilie
and I would sit close beside it, talking
and listening to its cheerful replies. Its
“ tick—tick,” meant a thousand things
that you would never understand.
One day, we were sitting in front, rock
ing away for dear life, when Dollie fell
and broke her arm off at the elbow. How
I cried ! And, my dear old clock ticked
so sadly then, I thought my heart would
break. I was sure it sympathized with
me, aud that was some comfort. Dollie
did not seem to mind it as much as one
would think, and so, after a while, we all
brightened up, and were happy again.
Ah! how I loved that dear old clock,
you will never know. I was so lonely be
fore we knew each other; my life so sun
less! and when craving love and sympa
thy, oh ! so much, it had entered my life,
and hung over its night his own starry
friendship. “ I had but this light in the
midst of much darkness.”
Some nights, Dollie and I would dream
of falling down awful precipices, or being
devoured by wild beasts, and would wake
up in a dreadful fright, but, in a moment,
our kind friend in the hall would ring
out, in his clear tones, the hour of the
night, and seem to say: “ Don’t be
alarmed, my dears—l am here.” Then
we would nestle amid the snowy pillows,
and fall asleep again, sure of one big,
sturdy friend keeping watch close beside
our door, and never, no never , caught
napping. Aunt Maria.
A School Boy’s Composition. —Corns
arc of two kinds —vegetable and animal.
Vegetable corn grows in row's, and ani
mal corn grows on toes. There are
several kinds of corn; there is unicorn,
capricorn, corn dodgers, field corn, and
toe corn, which is corn you feel most.
It is said, I believe, that gophers like
corn, but persons having corns do not
like to “go far” if they can help it.
Corns has kernels, and some colonels
have corns. Vegetable corn grows on
ears, but animal corn grows on the feet
at the other end of the body. Another
kind of corn is acorn ; these grow on
oaks, but there is hoax about the corn.
The acorn is a corn with an indefinite
article, but the corn is a very definite ar
ticle indeed. Try it and see. Many a
man when he has a corn wishes it was
an acorn. Folks that have corns some
times send for a doctor ; and if the doctor
himself is corned he w r on’t probably do
so well as if he isn’t. Doctors say corns
are produced by tight boots or shoes,
which is probably the reason why when a
man is tight they say he is corned. If a
farmer manages well he can get a good
deal of corn on one acre, but I know a
farmer that has one corn that makes the
biggest aeher on his farm. The bigger
crop of vegetable corn a man raises the
better he likes it; but the bigger crop of
animal corn he raises the better he does
not like it. Another kind is corn dodger.
The w’ay it is made is very simple, aud
is as follows (that is if you want to know.)
You go along a street and meet a man
you know has a. corn, and is a rough
character, then you step on the toe that
has a corn on it, and see if you don’t
have occasion to dodge. In that way you
will find out what a corn dodger is.
The Love of the Beautiful. —Place
a young girl under the care of a kind
hearted, graceful woman, and she uncon
sciously grows into a graceful lady.
Place a boy in the establishment of a
thorough-going, straightforward business
man, and the boy becomes a self-reliant,
practical business man. Children are
susceptible creatures, and circumstances,
scenes, always impress. As you influ
ence them, not by arbitrary rules, not by
stern example alone, but in a thousand
other ways that speak through beautiful
forms, through bright scenes, soft utter
ances, and pretty pictures, so will they
grow. Teach your children, then, to
love the beautiful. Give them a corner
in the garden for flowers; encourage
thorn to put in shape hanging baskets;
allow them to have their favorite trees;
lead them to wander in the prettiest
woodlcts; show them where they can
best view the sunsets; rouse them in the
morning, not with the “time to work,” but
with the enthusiastic “see the beautiful
sunrise !” Buy for them pretty pictures,
and encourage them to decorate their
rooms each in his or her childish way.
The instinct is in them. Give them an
inch and they will go a mile. Allow
them the privilege, and they will make
your home beautiful.
WIT AND HUMOR.
The cattle plague—Flies.
A sweet planet—the honeymoon.
A quack doctor—a duck of a physician.
Do our domestic poultry enjoy foul
weather ?
The man who pegged away returned
home on foot.
The best seats at some of our theatres—
pie receipts.
The beggar’s avocation—preying for his
daily bread.
Old port is much sought after, but not
half as much as Newport.
Is it the lynx only that can be found
along the chain of the Pyrenese?
Quite right—Ladies can smoke if they
chews.
’What is the worst seat to hold one up ?
Conceit.
King Alfred, when he burnt the cakes,
didn’t save his baking.
Friends are the most often like the Ne
gro’s moon—“Nebber shine dark nights.”
The miner is happiest when his triumphs
are ore.
A gentleman who hf | recently lost an
eye, begs to intimate that he has now a
vacancy for a pupil.
A young lady desires to know if “Eight
hour Bills,” are the same as sweet Wil
liams?
In a ’Western town, where labor move
ments have been frequent, capitalists will
not own clocks, because they “strike” too
often.
A married couple have recently been
discovered in Chicago, who have actually
been living together for ten years, and
never applied for a divorce!
An old bachelor says that the women
talk generally about the men; even their
laugh is “he, he, he !’’ Oh the lie—he—
—heathen.
A paper says it is no slander on Brad
ford to call it a spindling city, and that
somebody has been bright enough to say,
that kissing a factory girl is a mill privi
lege.
An ugly young lady is always anxious to
marry, and young gentlemen are seldom
anxious to marry them. This is the re-uit
of two mechanical powers—the inclined
plane and leave-her.
An • incorrigible loafer, being taken to
task for his laziness, replied ; “1 tell you,
gentlemen, you are mistaken, I have not a
lazy bone in my body, but the fact is, I was
horn tired.”
Cure for love—hide in a closet half a
dozen times, and listen to the conversation
which takes place, between a couple who
have been married one year, while they
think themselves entirely alone.
“Patrick, can you read the name on the
shop just opposite, for me ?” asked a
near-sighted young lady. “Sure miss,”
replied Pat, “it is as ignorant as yourself
I am. They nivir taught me to rade either.”
A rich Japanese, whose income is put a f
the fabulous sum of 20,000,000, is said to
be coming to Paris for a wife. The Boston
Post says: “What a blessing if we could
only get him here—and tax him.”
A Western paper cruelly says; “Our
member of Congress has made a great
speech—one of his very best. It wa?
written for him by a graduate of this office,
and the matter and delivery do credit to
both parties.”
A rifral contemporary, in an obituary
notice of a friend, says: “He was all that
those who knew him best could wish. He
left behind him a blessed memory, and
seven thousand dollars in Government
bonds.” Pathetic and pecuniary.
An eloquent orator proposes to “grasp
a ray of light frgm the great orb of day,
spin it into threads of jgold and with
them weave a shroud in which to wrap the
whirlwind which dies upon the bosom of
our Western prairies.” We fear the ma
chinery will break before the fabric is
through the loom.
Wonder what makes papa tell such nice
stories,” said a youngster, “about him hid
ing the schoolmaster’s rattan, when Le
went to school, about his running away
from the school mistress when she was
going to whip him, and then he shut me up all
day, in the dark room, because I tried, just
once, to be as smart as he was.
Sheridan made his appearance, one day,
in a pair of new boots, which attracted the
notice of some of his friends. “Now
guess,” said he, “how I came by tuese
new boots?” Many probable guesses then
took place. “No,” said Sheridan, “c*.
you've not hit, it nor never will; 1 bong- t
them and paid for them.”
Among the obituary notices of a coun
try paper, recently, appeared the following.
“Mr. , of Malvern, aged eighty
three, passed peacefully awavou Thursday
evening last, from single blessedness to
matrimonial bliss, after a short but sadder:
attack, by Mrs. —, a blooming widow
of thirty-five.”
An old lady, one night, was reading that
passage in the Bible, which speaks ot the
faith that can remove mountains. Now
there was behind her humble dwelling y
very high hill, which hid the nearest vil
lage from her view. She had often wi-hed
that this hill might be removed, because
she had faith that it would be done. B’u'
in the morning, when she arose, she lilted
the curtain, and lo ! the mountain was
■ stiU there. Then the old lady said to her
son: “Justus I expected, John; the old
hill stands there vet !*’