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VOLUME V.
Atlanta Medical College,
ATLANTA. GA.
The Twenty-First Annual Course of Lectures
will commence Oct. Isth, 1878, and close March
4th, 1879.
Faculty— J. G. Westmoreland. W. F. West
moreland, W. A. Love, V. H. Taliaferro, Juo.
Thad. Johnson, A. W. Calhoun, J. 11. Logan, J.
T. Banks: Demonstrator, (\ W. Nutting.
Send for Announcement, giving full informa
tion. JNO. THAI). JOHNSON, M. I> , Dean.
Albemarle Female Institute, Charlottes
ville. Virginia. s&<) for Board and Lite* ary
Tuition for Nine mouths, beginning October lt.
Music, Drawing, and Painting extra. For Ca a
loguesaddress K. H. RAWLINGS, M. A., Prest.
0 PIU
DpTUri CLASSICAL and MILITARY
DK. I ntL ACADKMY. near WAHRKN
TON, VA. Prepare for College, University,
or ltitsiness. Reconmumded for Locat'o.i
llf<illn Moiiil'ty, Schol-arnhip, and DUcipHut.
TERMS— Board and tuition per half session #95.
For Catalogue address Maj. A G. Smith, Sup't,
Bethel Academy P. 0., Fauquier County, Va.
VANDERBILT UNIVERSITY.
FOURTH SESSION opens Sept. 1, IS7B, and
closes June 1, 1879.
Fees in Literary and Scientific Department,
sß.'>. Law. $100; Medicine, SOS; Theology. sls.
Board and lodging per u onth. $lB to s'! •.
Professors, iTT; Instructors. 8; Students last
yeai, 406. For Catalogues address
L. C. GARLAND. Chancellor.
Nashville. Term.
TiETTEK THAN ANY OTHKH TO
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it •**er falls to snre 11 rmsrrkeldi
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THE
Home School for Young Ladies.
AT
ATHENS, CLARK COUNTY. GEORGIA.
MADAM ESOPH IK SOSNoWSKI ami MISS
CAROLINE SOSNUWSKI. Associate Principals.
With the assist ance .f an able corps of teachers,
this institute will resume its exercises September
isth, 187 M. For Circular and further particulars
refer as above.
CHEAPEST AND BEST.
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Acknowledged the Woman's University of the
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Catalogues, or further information address the
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KENTUCKY
MILITARY INSTITUTE.
Established IK4.'>. Six miles out of Frankfort,
Ky. Most beautiful and healthful location, and
*"pfiior methods of Qorernment ami in at suction.
Circulars of information sent by
M PT ALLEN, Farindale, P. 0., Ky.
GAYLESVILLE HIGH SCHOOL.
r PHE Ninth Annual Session of this very popular
j|_ school will open on Monday, September 40th.
The prospects of the school were never so flat
tering.
There were kivk teachers employed in this
school last tetm. and from present prospects
there will he more required next. term. A com
petent teacher is already employed for drawing
ami painting.
Our course is now equal to that in our best
colleges.
Kates in all departments VERY low.
Board only per month.
For further particulars address the principal,
REV. S L. RUSSELL, A. M.
sept 121 w. Gaylesville, Ala.
PATFN T 9 obtained for mechanical de
■ M I C.II I O vices, medical or other corn
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IFJ\J C M TI nM sj r hat have been rejected by
•■ * Lll I lUli O ihe Patont Office may still*
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aminations, and secure Patents more promptly
and with broader and better claims, than those
who are remote from Washington.
11/FNTORQ semi us a model or rough
V dl I UIIO sketch and description ot
your device: we will muke an examinat'.ou. tree
of charge, and advise you as to its patentability.
All correspondence strictly confidential. Prices
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We refer to Officials in t.b* Patent Office, and
to inventors in every State of the Union.
Add ress,
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Opp<tiU. Palf iit Wuthlnjton. D.C.
A NEW SERIAL story.
AZALIA!
A SOUTHERN BLOSSOM.
SAVANNAH weekly news
BY MRS. M. E. MORRISON.
In th* Weekly News of September2lst com
menced a nr.w aerial story of aha orbing interest,
with the above title, written by a lady of
Savannah.
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THE OLD FOLKS.
Ah, don’t be sorrowful, darling!
And don’t be sorrowful, pray;
Taking the year together, my dear,
There isn’t more night than day.
The rainy weather, my darling,
Time's waves they heavily run;
But taking the year together, my dear,
There isn't more cloud than suu.
We are old folks now, my darling;
Our heads are growiuggray;
But taking the year all round, my dear,
You will always find a May.
9 We have had our May, my darling.
And our roses long ago;
And the time of the year is eomiug
For the silent night of snow.
And God is God, my darling,
Of uight as well as day;
And we feel and know that we can go
Wherever he leads the way.
A God of the night, my darling.
Of the night of death so grim;
The gate that leads out of life, good wife,
Is the gate that leads to Him.
THE END.
The course of the weariest river
Ends in the great gray sea;
The acoin, for evet and ever,
Strives upward to the tree.
The raiubow, the sky &do**nlng,
Shines promise through the storm;
The glimmer of coining morning
Through midnight gloom will form,
By time all knots are riven.
Complex although they be,
And peace will at last be given,
Dear, botu to you and to me.
Then, though the path bo dreary.
Look onward to the goal;
Though i tie hear t and the head be weary.
Let faith iuspire the soul,
Seek . he ri'dit, i hough the wrong be tempting
Speak t at k at any cost:
Vein is all weak exempting
When once the irem is lost.
Let t>‘ rong hand ami keen eye be ready
For p’aiu and ambushed foes;
\ nou at vainest and fancy steady
Bear best unto the close.
The heavy clouds may be raining.
But wi;h ever'ng comes the light;
Through Vue dark are low winds complaining.
Yet i ae sunrise gilds the height;
And love has bis hidden t**e&3ure
For • he pa. lent and the pure;
And Time gives his fullest measure
To th'* workers who endure;
And the Ward that no law has shaken
Has be future pledge supplied ;
For we know that when we “awaken”
We sha'l be "satisfied.”
—TV > ''■j/'* Magir.iue.
COUNTERPARTS.
They must have been engaged, for lie
had asked her twice to take another ice,
had insisted on helping her to dam
chowder, and had passed tier the ti.rts
| three tiines;she bad thanked him sweetly,
and bad gone to looking about the room
in an absent-minded manner.
They are not a i cry well assorti and couple
piquant Pansy Way arid plain Ben
) Allison. He is not a bad looking man,
! for be ha -a good face—a very good face;
but he is rather awkward and ery much
in love, aud, although lie has eyes and
cars for no one else to-night, he b is spill
! ed both coffee and oysters over Pansy’s
j lace scarf and blush-colored kids.
Pansy is very pre ty to night in her Am
ethyst silk and pearls, her eyes outshin
ing Madame Hempstead's diamonds, her
creamy complexion and rod cheeks dim
pling alt over with smiles.
Why do these pale so suddenly, and
her eyes grow so large, as a little buzz in
the rooms beyond announces the arrival
of a gentleman, a little taller and more
elegant than any of the elegant gentlemen
a ready assembled at Mrs. Doanc’s bril
liant reception. He comes gracefully for
ward, with that little toss of the head su
perlatively handsome people sometimes
have; his voice is well suited to his ami
able and genteel hearing, as he condones
his late artival to his hostess.
How very handsome he is as he stands
there, pushing back his beautiful hair.
His large magnetic eyes, his marble-like
features, covered t ith such a bloom as
Venus must have breathed u, on Apollo,
make him the perfection of physical
beauty.
‘‘What a silly lisp Ben has!” thought
Pansy, as she pushes back her plate.
“How sickening that cream-cake is!” and
she quite imperatively orders Ben to take
her back into the parlors.
She has scarcely tasted anything, and
Ben is frightened to see her grow so pale,
and all the sweet color fade out of cheek
and lip and chin, and, he lets her hustle
him along obediently.
In the course of the evening she intro
duces him to .Miss Piiicem, a young lady
whose nose hooks into her mouth, arid
who discourses eloquently over Tennyson,
Byron and Homer. Poor Ben, who has
no taste for poetry or the classics, sits on
the sola beside her, and amiably tries to
appreciate it ail, sadly missing Pansy who
has begged for a moment to be by herself
and has run away to the conservatory
near; she has just put her soft cheek down
to a calla iiliy, when she hears a quick,
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1878.
familiar step belli ml her. ami turns about
no longer pale, but redder than tho scar
let gladiolus near.
‘‘St. Clare!"
“Pansy!"
Both sit down on the rustic sofa
among the nodding fusohias and olean
ders—there lias been no smile, no kiss,
not even a clasp of the hand between
them, and yet these two are perfectly
happy, with the joy of being near each
other.
The fountain plashes away softly, the
band clashes out in that sweet old ‘‘Nor
ma’’—old, yet always new—that lias
made hearts beat quicker for so many
years. His coat-sleeve brushes the sleeve
of her dress; they look into each other's
eyes and are happy—they are going back
te other times.
“Do you remember.” says Pansy “tha
night of the senatorial ball, when we sat
up in the gallery all the evening and
talked, and had so much fun over old Mrs.
Burry’s dancing and simpering with the
younger members?”
“Yes, that was a glorious night; but
bko everything else delightful, it is in
the past.”
“Do you remember what the ex-gover
nor said übout my eyes, and you asked
him if lie had not overreached him
self?”
“Yes; and I would give half my life if
I could ever be so so superlatively happy
again. “Oh, Pansy!” and lie takes the
bit of a band that has been wandering
about in her lap, over the silk flounces,
anxious enough to be taken, “il l could
only take you and live five Jtlionsaud
miles away from any one else, 1 should
be perfectly happy.”
“Why, it would not be at all interest
ing. How tired we would grow of each
other.”
But Pansy does not mean what she
says, lor as she meets again that all-con
trolling, lcve-inspiring glance, she drops
her own and blushes hotly.
"However that might be, it cannot be
for 1 am settled and disposed of, and en
gaged to Fanny Elroy. There she is,
just within the folding doors, talking to
young Griuishaw.”
Pansy looks eagerly at the tall, finely
developed woman, with a f: ce most stat
uesqtie and beautiful— oi e of these pure
pink and-white, unthinking faces, with a
brow as clear as a child's—a woman in
whom it is almost impossible to do wrong,
as there is no element of wrongin them—
a milk.and water character that could in- |
spire no deep attachment in any one, arid
yet you could not help saying, “11 w
sweet!” when you looked at this harm
less, gracious, lovable, Funny; a rich, stay
at-home woman, who knew no more about
tbe world than a fly that lias only crawled
on one pane of glass all its life. Pansy,
with her big eyes and slip of a figure has
bad a fight with the world for so many
weary years, that she has grown to read
people at a glance.
“How beautiful she is!” she says to St.
Clare; “hut you and she are the same
complexion—eyes arid features. You
cannot be counterparts —I mean two
persons that differ in order to agree!
Are you sure you are suited to each
other?”
"However that may be, she is my fate,”
he says sadly.
“And there,” says Pansy, springing up
suddenly, “is mine!’’
“It is Ben, hunting for Pansy, in all
eonceivablo places, elbowing about, and
poking his nose into the shadowy corners.
Ben always toes iri when he walks, anil,
being so very much in hive and in such
fervent haste, it makes him more awkward
than he naturally would be, which is
entirely unnecessary.
Pansy takes his arm dutifully, and
walks off with him, and shudders when
she thinks she must spend all her life
with this man, for thirty, for forty, for
fifty—for the dear Lord only knows how
many—years, and Ist. Clare will he far
away!
The band clashes out one more, the
dancers' feet are busy again.
Pansy dances every set; her heart is
breaking, but she smiles on; she was
never so gay in a,I her lile before; she
dances three times with St. Clare. He
is another’s, but what matter, for is she
not flying along in his arms, held a little
closer th. n is necessary?
Still, it is for the last time, and, when
the nrusic ceases, and the guests begin to
wearily disperse in the ’ray morning, he
takes her little hand and whispers “Good
bye, Pansy,” feeling her little fingers close
over his in a clinging, despairing clasp.
They take the morning train for home,
those two coupies—St. lure an! Fanny,
Ben and Pansy’. Pansy is aph iu looking
little thing enough by daylight, in her
gray, traveling dress, and with her weary
eyes—all the flush and sparkle gone out
of her face. Few would have recognized
in her the sparkling Pansy of last night,
with the amethyst silk and blushes.
She hushes up Ben when he assays to
make some love-like remarks to her, and
is very ungracious when lie commiserates
her on looking so tired. He wisely takes
himself off, at length, to that paradise of
men, the smoking ear, and Pansy loans
back in her seat with an air of relict,
carelessly watching a party of lour others
who are also returning from last night’s
bull, and are chatting noisily; they have
turned the car seats about just in front of
her, and to pass the time away, have a
euchre-deck between them.
Pansy starts as one of them, a short,
fat, overblown, overjeweled woman, in a
velvet polonaise, and a louder voice than
tbe rest, pip s up:
“\\ hat ailed St. Clare last night; I
never got a chance to dance with him
once, and lie looked as if he was going to
his own funeral?”
"Spoony on some girl wlm docs not
favor bis suit," answers her vis-a-vis, a
flashy man in a seal-skin cup and overe sit.
“Both engaged to somebody else, I be
lieve, and both huve got some new-fangled
notion in their heads that the ones they
have promised to marry are not their
counterparts. Bah !on all this bosh about
affinities!
“Why, I would give a 1 my old shoes,
anil one of my eyes to see a girl he would
fancy, ho is so charming and fastidious.
Is she pretty?”
“Not particularly, they say—fine eyes
and a pretty figure, and poor as a church
mouse.”
“Why he must he an idiot!”
Here the fat woman gets up and glides
as airily us her weight r.f avoiruupois will
allow, toward the stove, but, on her return
trip, her foot slips, and she stops in front
of Pansy's seat, indignantly.
“I would thank you, miss, not to throw,
your orange seeds down on the floor for
me to fall down upon. ”
All the tiger in passionate Pansy is
aroused. She looks up sarcastically into
ti e woman’s blowzy face and says coolly:
“I did not suppose it would hurt you il
you did fall.”
The man in the sealskin coat chuckles
in his sleeve as hewatches the woman
and the girl—whom a moment ago she
would have given one of her eyes to see—
glare at each other in premeditated rage.
'l ire fat woman opens her lips to speak,
hut rhe sentence is never finished.
There is a terrible cash and collision.
Another train has shot through the tunnel
just ahead, and comes crashing down upon
them.
There is a wild struggling and rushing
to and fro, and then a terrible cry of
“the cur is on fire!”
Pansy feels herself lifted in a pair of
stroug arms, and hears St. Clare’s voice
in her ear. Then eveiy thing grows dark.
Is she hack in tl e hall room dancing with
St Clare and isthe hand playing "Norma”?
Then things grow darker yet, and she
hears no more.
The next, day she and St, Clare stand
\ beside two lifeless, maimed and charred
bodies.
“And this was Beni” said Pany,
sadly.
“And this was poor Fanny!” said St.
Clare as lie smoothed down a tress of
hair that had been so beautiful yester
day.
I need scarcely add that St. Clare and
Pansy are married; and being counterparts
are neatly as happy as the people in the
story-books, although she is a little in
: dined to he spirited and ho is inclined to
he tyrannical. And over them both hangs
always the shadow of the sad fate of
Ben and Fanny!
V clergyman said that he orico visited
a lady of his parish who had just lost
her husband in order to offer consolation,
and upon her earnest inquiries as to the
reunion of families in heaven, he strongly
asserted his belief in that fact, arid when
she asked with anxiety whether any time
must elapse before friends would he able
to find each other in the next world, he
emphatically said “No! they will be uni
ted at once.” He was thinking of the
happiness of being able to offer the relief
of such faith, when she broke in upon
such meditations by exclaiming sadly,
“Well, his first wife has got him then by
this time!” —Planter and Granye.
A story is told of a man who got very
tipsy at a country house, and was tarred
and feathered and put to bed Ileawoke
stiff tip-y, and exclaimed: “Become a
bird, byJovo!”
AtTNT HANNAH.
Aunt Hannah is an old colored woman
in South Bultiuiorc, who has made her
living for year- by selling pies, ginger
cakes and apples at a little street stand.
She prides herself on being “an old
fashioned darkey." Slio is about sixty
years old and came originally from the
Eastern Shore, to which place she means
to return uitimaiely in order -to die. She
may he recognized by an immense bandana
1 andkeichief which she wears oti her head
in the form ol a turban, by her coal-black
face and shining teeth, and by her extra
ordinary neatness and punctilious courte
sy. The other day a gentleman who does
business in South Baltimore, and who lias
patronized her for years, stopped at her
stand, as lie often does, to buy an apple.
“How's business, Aunt Hannah?" he
asked.
“Poorly, chile, ’ she replied, shaking
her head sadly.
"What's that?”
"Well, .-all, the gentlemens like you is
about do only customers I bus now. Dese
niggers about heah is gettin’ too high
tom d.”
“Too high-toned?”
“Yes, sab. Dey say dey can’t buy from
me bekase 1 isnt quality-—I isn’t dire
stjle.”
“Why aren’t you their style?”
“Well, 1 tell you, massa; you sec it’s
| all dese here rewivals. You see I’s a
j church member, and 1 believes in ole
j fashion shoutin’—shoutin’ like we had in
ide good ole tuussa’s days. It ’pears like
shoo in’ does mo a heap of good; sort o’
makes me warm all over. But dey won’t
allow shoutin’ in our church no mo’.
W’hon I heerd dat I ups, I does; and 1
says to the preacher: ‘W’bar do you git
dat from, anyhow?’ ‘Mrs. Bramble,’ he
says—‘l ain’t no Mrs. Bramble,’ 1 says,
‘I se old Hannah.’ ‘Aunt Hannah.' he
says, ‘d n't disturb de hominy of do
meetin I says to him, says I, ‘What’s
I got to do with de hominy ol'de meetin’?
All 1 wants is to holler at meetin’, just as
I always does.’ lie says, ‘lt isn’t con
sidered de thing any more. Aunt Hannah,
to shout at meetin'. ‘Go long, chile,’ I
says, and I lei ’ him. De next Sunday in
meetin' when de time come for goin’ to
de mourners’ bench, 1 seed all de high
toned darkeys a siltin’ as quiet as mice,
lookin’ jest like de white people does in
dere church. So I ups, I does, and I
begins to shout. Dey all look as if dey'd
nebber heerd such a thing before. One
young gal hid her face behind her fan and
laughed. ‘Whatyou laughin’at?' Isays,
‘you sassy’ -hut I ’ineiiibered de mourn
ers’ bench arid stopped. De preacher
looked at me wid de whites of his eyer
and says, ‘Sister, don’t disturb de bariuiiiy
of de meetin’.’ But I jest keeps on
Shoutin' and de folks all around looks as if
dey was skeerd. Birne-by de prtatdier
says, ‘Will somebody remove the sister
from church?' And, niassa, dey took me
and put, me out. I 1 had a mind to grab ’em,
hut I rass'ed wid dedebbel and I heat him.
“ ‘What sort o’ revival’sdis?’ [ said, as
dey was carryin’ me out. Dey looked at
each other and laughed, and told me 1 was
eld-fashioned, wasn’t quality, hadn’t any
tone. I hasn’t been to meetin’ since, an’
my customers is droppiu’ off one by one.”
“ Well, what are you going to do about
it, Hannah?”
“I kaint say, niassa; hut- -if I catches
one o’ deui high-toned gals about heah,
and kin lay my hands on her, I’ll show
her what a:i old-lashioned rewival is."
THE IKON COUNT.
(Jcner iI Von Moltke is now seventy
eight, or, to 1)0 exact, will bo seventy
eight on ll.e ,'JOtli of next month, ami yet
■toes not look milch older than he did
twenty yens ago. In more respects than
he is an iron man, having an iron will,
an iron constitution, and an iron charac
ter. He deserves to be called the Iron
Count quite as inuoh as Wellington ever
deserved to be called the Iron Duke, for
lie is, if anything, more unyielding and of
sterner di position than the great Irish
Englishman, lie is a member of an an
cient family of Mecklenburg, where he
was born, and where hie ancestors had
had their-eats for centuries Soon after
his birth his father, a military, officer, a
regular martinet, left Mecklenburg arid
went to Holstein, acquiring an estate in
the Duchy. The younger Moltkc, hav
ing spent twelve years there, has been
thought by many to be a native. At
eighteen he was sent, with his brothers,
to the military academy of Copenhagen,
where discipline, almost Spartan in sever
ity, laid the foundation oi In- inflexinie
charnel r. Four years later ho nt ed
the Prussian army a cot nt •, and n
lather, soon after, losing aii bis property,
NUMBER 17.
the young man had hard work to retain
Ilia position, the pay of Prussian officers
of tho lower grade being very sin ill.
Having determined to get on somehow,
he got on, for with him, to will is to suc
ceed. He even saved enough from his
pittance to take lessons in foreign lan
guages, which have since served him in
excellent stead, lie has said that without
such knowledge lie could not have been
ball so uselul as be has been in the Hold.
Ho thinks knowledge of languages indis
pensable to a commanding officer in Eu
rope. Asa strategist lie is without a
peer, most of ihe battles of the wars of
Prussia with poor little Denmark (a mere
mililary opp.ession), Austria and France
having been planned by him beforehand,
and fought according to his plan. He
lias incurred our displeasure by a remark
ascribed to him, that he did not, alluding
to our oivil contest, feel an interest in
armed mobs. It is altogether likely that
be said so. Our forces, both North and
South, must have seemed as mobs to a
thorougiy trained and exclusive soldier of
bis stamp. He could not conceive tha'
near two millions of men, taken from ev
ery grade of civil life, could render effi
cient military service, and he does not, in
all probabi ity, understand it yet. Ex.
LET CHILDREN HE TAUUH I TO SWIM.
Among the few survivors from the
terrible wreck of the Princess Alice are
three members of th ; same family—Mr.
1 hoi pe, of the Old Kent road, seventeen
years ot age; his sisier, Miss Thorpe,
who is a year older than himself, and his
brother, a mere boy of nine. All these
owe their lives to tho fact that they are
able to swim.
i he boys, it would seem, were somehow
separated from tlitir sister. They were
both picked up by the same boat, and wore
when it helped them from their perilous
position, swimming side by side. ’lhc
sister, who was older than either, achieved
her own safety. She struck boldly out,
and, in spile of the encumbrance of her
garments, the force of the tide, the
darkness of the night, and the danger to
which she cannot hut have been subjected
by the fruntio efforts of those who were
struggling mound her in the water to
eatch and c.ing to any object within their
grasp—succeed and in reaching the hank.
The exploit she accomplished is, if tve
consider it, almost marvellous. The tide
was rushing swiftly down; the water must
have been cold and benumbing; the night,
as we know, was dura and foggy: there
were round about her all the horror a of
the scene; the "last farewell’’ was rising
from river to sky; hi the waterstrugglers
were grappling, in their lust agony, each
with each; and yet through all the horrors
she fought her way with a ca!m, quiet con
fidence which men who have stood under
fire and confronted death in other acdoven
mote sudden sh pc- might, well envy her.
The incident serves once again to show
how important and, indeed, good it would
be il girls as well as boys were taught to
swim. •-•London Standard.
ANIUALCUL.'E.
Lewenhocck saw hundreds of aniuial
culae in the space of a grain of sand, and
ho says ton thousand; but i: is now
suspected that he saw the ultimate
motions of the atoms of gas and not
organized beings. A drop of water
contains hundreds, all in extreme tetivity
swimming or crawling with freedom and
purpose. They appear to sub ist on the
atoms of infusion, and some prey on
others. Some have the form of flying
dragons, with all their parts; others are
like polype; so ne like warms; others with
many legs, like insects; while others have
machinery of wheels, which turn, create
vortexes and apparently enable them to
collect food. Some are like plants, with
branches, each terminated wit Ii an
animalcule and the trunk and branches
alternately draw in and spread. Others
are like hydatids, and have their genera
tions in the skin. And all appear to he
hermaphrodites. Many aiiiinaleu'.eß have
the power of rosurrection, and, after
being dry grains for years, revive again
on being put in a drop of water, and this
may le repeated tenor twelve times, if
they are kept in sand, however dry.
Aniinalculso are not to ho found m all
fluids. None are to be found in wines, or
any other fermented liquor which has
not passed into the state of vinegar, or
which has not heenur completely vapid;
neither arc they to he found in distilled
nr spring water. If paste made with
flour and water is suffered to go sour,
without being mouldy, the surface will
soon ho covered with an infinite number
ot minute living being , which, from their
out' 1 similarity to that animal, have
in.cn called eel". Cincinnati Star.