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8 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 !*’