te over a table, his cyclone catches up pennies, pens,
pith balls and other small articles, and scatters them in every
direction.

Cyclones never touch the equator, though the ocean ones are rare
outside the torrid one. They are caused by the meeting of contrary
currents of winds, and are known under the names of hurricanes,
typhoons, whirlwinds or tornadoes. Those terrifying outbursts which
now and then cause so much destruction in our own country seem to be
the concentration of the prodigious force of an immense ocean cyclone
within a small space, which renders them resistless.

A writer in the _N. Y. Herald_ gives some interesting facts regarding
these scourges of the air. While the cyclone, as we have shown, may
have a diameter of hundreds of miles, the track of a tornado is often
limited to a few hundred feet, and rarely has the width of half a mile.

The cyclone carries with it a velocity of as much as 100 to 140 miles
an hour. It sends a certain amount of warning ahead of its track, and
the acceleration of the wind's speed at any given point, is gradual.

The tornado falls almost without notice, or rather the indications are
often so similar to those of an ordinary thunderstorm that only a
skilled and careful observer can detect the difference.

The phenomena and effects of cyclones in the West Indies have long been
subjects of study and observation. As the center approaches a ship she
is assaulted by wind of a terrible force and a sea that is almost
indescribable. The water no longer runs in waves of regular onward
motion, but leaps up in pyramids and peaks. The wind swirls and
strikes until wherever there is a chance for vibration or flutter, even
in tightly furled sails, the fabric soon gives way. I once saw a brig
go drifting past us in a West Indies cyclone with everything furled and
closely lashed with sea gaskets. We were in company nearly at the
height of the storm, when the center was only a few miles away. There
was a spot in the bunt of the foretopsail where the sail was not
tightly stowed, and for several hours it had doubtless been fluttering
under tremendous pressure. As I watched her a little white puff went
out of the bunt of the topsail, and then the destruction of the sail
was rapid. Long ribbons of canvas went slithering off as if a huge
file had rasped the yard arm, and in a short time there was nothing
left on the yard except the bolt ropes and the reef tackles. We could
do