Newspaper Page Text
VOL. I.
The Ave of Lightning.
This Is an age of lighthing,
The world hums on its way,
Ard lightning lights Its lamp by night,
And pulls its load by day;
And he who Bceks its prizes.
The world’s applause or gains,
Must stir the lightning in his blood,
And tnlx it in his brains.
ltigbt on it spins, a whirling whizz
With fierce electric gleams,
Itight down “the ringing grooves of change’’
The blazing courser streams;
Then watch your chance and jump aboard,
Throw off your heavy chains,
And stir the lightning in your blood,
Aud mix it in your brains.
—[S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade.
BOGUE-A HERO,
BY OSCAR K. UAVIS.
“It’s a cuviot s thing,” said the
Doctor, “how the friendships of out-
boyhood occasionally come back to us
in later years.”
We were sitting in his office enjoy¬
ing a quiet little chat over old college
days. Something in his manner told
me that he h:.d a good story, so I an-
swered with a tentative, “Yes? What
suggested that to you?”
“Oh, tho queer ending one of mine
has just had. I’ll tell you about it.
“I was a boy when my father first
came to this town. As boys will, 1
soon made my friends and my enemies
—more enemies than friends, perhaps;
but among the friends was one of the
best-nalurcd little fellows you ever
saw. Somewhere he had picked up
the oddest nickname I had ever heard.
Everybody in town knew him as
‘Bogue.’ Why, nobody could tell.
His real name was John Sanderson,
aud he lived with his widowed mother
who kept the country post-office.
“Bogue was a jolly youngster, lie
was bright, shrewd and happy; al¬
ways ready to do a friend a good turn,
aud continually occupied with one of
a thousand schemes he had for making
a few cents, or in spending those pre¬
viously earned. He had two brothers,
no more like him In nature and dispo¬
sition than a rainy day is like the sun¬
shine. They were both sober young
fellows, working hard at their trades,
and never having any time or money
to spend for pleasure.
“But Bogue was their exact oppo¬
site. Volatile and free, he had no
thought for the day or the morrow,
lie made the host lie could of his life,
and had no complaint because exis¬
tence was not a bed of thornless roses.
His bl ight, winsome ways made him
scores of friends. Men prc-occupied
with bu-incss cares would go out of
their way to do him a kindness, for
there was a phase of his life which the
brave little fellow never mentioned,
but which half the town knew and
pitied. Favorite that he was else¬
where, at home lie was disliked. To
the mother, so careful of the o‘hcr
boys, so watchful of their lives, he
was unwelcome.
“The sweet, sunny nature, so much
in need of the tender care of a mother’s
love, was hurt and darkened at the be¬
ginning of its development; left to
. warp and grow crooked if it would;
left lo iixrn into paths the mother-love
should so carefully guard.
“Is it strange there should have
been dark days in his life? The
strange thing is that the happy nature
was not forever ruined, and that the
native manhood within him triumphed.
“Well, we boys lived and grew to¬
gether. At school lie was the bright¬
est and the worst of the lot. What
mischief lie could not devise was not
sworth attempting; what plans for
bothering his teachers ho could not
formulate were beyond the. rest of us.
But with all his dare deviltry and mis¬
chief, that reckless, merry hearted boy
carried in his manly bosom the very
soul of honor. Generous to a fault,
he would willingly take the blame of
any prank if thereby his companions
should escape. But there were some
things neither persuasion nor force
could induco him to do. And one day
the master called on him for one of
them.
“There had been a prank of more
than usual magnitude played on the
master; his desk had been opened and
his text-books hidden. There was au
ominous gleam in his gray eyes that
morning as he called out: ‘Sanderson,
did you have anything to do with
this?’
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ answered the boy.
“ ‘Come np here.’
“Bogue stepped forward, never
dreaming but that a good thrashing
would settle the whole trouble; but
he was mistaken.
“ ‘Who was with you?’asked the
master.
“The boy’s big eyes grew round
with astonishment and flashed with
anger as lie answered; ‘Do you think
I would tell you that? Yon don’t
know me.’
“For an instant time was a silence
like tho hush of death. The pupils sat
THE ENTERPRISE.
there breathless and eager. i no mas¬
ter grew ghastly pale; then his voice,
low and quivering with rage; ‘San¬
derson, I command you to tell me who
was with you.’
“The big, old-fashioned clock on
the wall loudly ticked the only an¬
swer.
“ ‘I say I command you!’
“ ‘I refuse to tell.’
“That was nineteen years ago, but
it seems as if but yesterday, so vividly
do I recall the scene that followed.
The master stepped to his closet and
took down a long, green rawhide,
such as are used for riding-whips.
There was a single cry, ‘For shame;’
but he silenced it with a look of such
terrible malignity as 1 have never seen
in another man’s eyes. The boy stood
waiting what he knew would bo the
most awful beating the master could
inflict; but lie never flinched. The
muscles of his mouth assumed a set,
rigid expression, and the big brown
eyes blazed with indignation. That
was all.
“The master raised his whip. lie
shook with uncontrollable passion.
‘I’ll teach you to refuse to obey me.’
Again and again the lithe lash fell.
With strength inspired by his terrible
anger the master swung his stinging
whip. It cut the voiceless air of the
school-room with shrill, hissing sounds,
and fell upon the hack, the shoulders,
the limbs, the head, of the boy with
resounding, malignant vigor. For
fifteen minutes the pitiless whip fell.
The boy neither moved nor cried out;
but in his face was plainly portrayed
the depths to which his soul was
stirred. The boy was changing to the
man. That quarter of an hour marked
the transition period of his life. The
old. free spirit was curbed. The mas¬
terful will became dominant.
“The little town rang with the story
of the wrong. Everybody was enlist¬
ed for the boy except the ones whose
sympathy and help he iiad the right to
demand. They alone turned against
him. Three days afterward he came
to me and, with tears in his eyes, bade
me good-by. He was going away—
where, he did not know; how, he did
not care. His mother, lie said, had
discredited him; his brothers said lie
was wrong and deserved the beating.
That night be went. The iron had
entered his soul, and lie never for¬
got it.
“Gradually the affair was forgotten.
In a little country town like this such
things are not long remembered.
The boys grew up and scattered; and,
save an occasional c at over old times,
Bogae’s name was rarely mentioned.
“So cigh'een years passed. One
day when 1 returned from a profes¬
sional call I found a man in my office.
He was worn and seedy and ra god,
and lie iiad been drinking; he was
lying on tho sofa, and the fumes of
liquor filled the room.
“‘What do you want?’ I asked
sharply.
“He sat up and gave me a quick,
startled glance from his brown eyes in
which there was something strangely
familiar. But I did not recognize him
until he said: ‘I didn’t think you’d re¬
member me, Dave. I’m Bogue.’
U i My dear fellow, where have yon
been?’
“Oh, I don’t know. Nobody docs;
nobody cares. I’m a tramp. Have
been a tramp three years; but what's
the difference? Nobody cares.’
“ ‘But I care,’ I replied.
“lie shook his head sadly. ‘Nobody
here ever eared anything about me. I
never even had a home. I just grew
as I could. I used to wonder what a
home would be like if a fellow Iiad
one of his own. Maybe if somebody
lutd cared a rap whether I went right
or wrong it would have been dif¬
ferent. ’
“He was hungry, dirty, cold, and
had no money. 1 took him to my
rooms, gave him a bath, got him some
clothes and took him down to dinner
with me. Something had sobered
him wonderfully. After dinner we
went back to the office, aud lie fold me
his story.
“There wasn't much to tell. When
lie left our town he Iiad gone to a big
railroad centre aud found work. lie
got the opportunity and learned teleg¬
raphy. He had been gone fourteen
years and was grown to manhood,
when he was given a country station.
There the old, old story was told
again. lie fell in love with the
daughter of a business man, and be¬
came engaged to her.
ii ( It was queer,’ he went on, ‘bow
the old longing for a home of my own
came back over me. llow we planned
and arranged! Everything was ready,
and the wedding day was aunost come.
I never dreamed of trouble; but,
Dave—the day we were to have been
married—she ran away with another
fellow. He had seemed a good friend
of mine, and had been helping me
with the arrangements,
OCTOBER 10.1890.
“ -That night I was wild. For tho
first time in my life I got drunk. I
don’t know how it was, but when I
got her noto it seemed as if I was on
fire. I went down to the office drunk.
The boys were astonished to see me
so, but they had hoard tho story and
understood. But, as if it wore not
enough to have tlie dream of my life
ruined, 1 made a mistake in taking a
train order,and the train v/as wrecked.
A man was killed and a woman crip¬
pled for life. That night I went, away.
1 started out to walk, and 1 have
walked ever since. That was almow
three years ago.
“ ‘And here 1 am. You’re (lie first
man in all that time who has had a
good word for me. I went to sec
tho boys—my brothers, when I got
here. You know how it used to bo
with us. They would not speak to
me. No, there’s no uso of my trying
to brace up. I've tried it till I’m sick,
and it’s no go, so I guess I iiad better
move on.’
“But 1 stopped him and mndo him
stay with me. That was about a year
ago. Ho stajed six weeks, aud grad¬
ually got back into something like his
old self. But I could scs that his heart
was gone, and that it was a strained
effort lie was making. In those six
weeks his brothers never spoke to him
once. Some of the old friends who
were still here were really glad to see
him; but he was very reticent, aud
spent all the time with me.
“One day he said he was ready to
go to work again if he could got the
chance. I had some influence iu rail¬
road circles, and we went down to
headquarters together. He was a fine
workman and thoroughly competent,
so there was not much difficulty in
getting him a place. I went with him
out to his station, and saw him fairly
installed before I came back, The
morning that I left him he gave me a
hearty hand-shake, and, looking me
straight in the eyes, said, with quiver¬
ing lips: ‘Dave, old fellow, I’ll bo a
man now.’ So I left him.
“lie never wrote to me but I heard
of him occasionally, and always the re¬
port was a good one. He was keep,
ing steadily at his work—lost in it, it
seemed, for he never associated with
the young men of the town. His
secret was Ills own and lie kept it.
“So it went until, ten days ago, I
got a message from liiin. He had been
hurt in an accident and wanted me. I
went at once, but there was no hope.
The poor boy was beyond all human
help, and it was merely a question of
time. He knew it, and was not afraid.
The old strength that I had seen in his
face when the master so cruelly beat
him came back again. The promise of
his boyhood was fulfilled.
“I sat down beside him, and ho told
me how it happened. ‘I kept my
word, Dave,’ lie said. ‘Sometimes it
was pretty hard; but it’s over now.
It was a little lonosomc out here at
times, too; but that’s all right. I
went up to Brady’s station the oilier
day to see the agent there. We stood
on the platform, talking, while we
waited for the passenger to come in.
There was a through special
coining ahead of the passenger.
There were lots of people on
the platform; but I did not
notice any of them in particular until,
just as the special swung by the yard
target, a woman screamed “Oh, my
baby!” There was a little baby girl
just toddling across the track, She
fell over the outer rail. I jumped and
pushed her off’, but somehow I slipped.
Jack Dolan was pulling the train. He
saw it, but he couldn’t slop her.’
“He paused, exhausted, then in a
whisper he added, ‘Dave, it was her
baby. Good-by.’ The soul of a hero
had gone to its God.”—[New York
Independent.
The I’rince and the Sentry.
The following incident is related in
a private letter in illustration of the
steadfastness of the British soldier.
When at Gibraltar, Prince Henry
climbed the hill, and on approaching
the summit at a certain point found
himself stopped by a sentinel.
“No road this way!”
Prince Ilcnry told the man he only
wanted to go to the brow of the preci¬
pice, so as to see the water on the
other side.
“No! no thoroughfare!” replied
the sentinel.
“But I am commander of the
Irene,” said Prince Henry.
“All the same; no thoroughfare!"
insisted the soldier.
“But I am a Russian Prince,” con¬
tinued the commander of the Irene.
“No thoroughfare!” obdurately re¬
plied the sentinel, and Prince Henry
abandoned the undertaking.
Au Embarrassing Query.
He—A true man will marry only
for love.
She—Well, what do you propose to
marrv for?—f Chat ter.
A PRAIRIE EIRE.
uraphic Description of the On¬
coming of a Wall of Flame.
A Fiery Ordeal Once Common
in the Far West.
A'e all sprung up to see one of tho
saddle horses—a veteran in years and
experience—standing with his head
high in (he air and pointed due west
While he looks as fixedly as if his eyes
had lost their power to turn, his 1109-
trills quiver and dilate with excite¬
ment. We watch him a full minute,
lie was the first to exhibit alarm, but
now one horse after another throws
up his head and looks to tho west.
“It’s tire, boys!”
Iiad it been night we should have
seen the reflection. Had there been a
strong wind the odor would have come
lo us sooner. There is only a gentle
breeze—languishing, dying under the
fierce sun, but resurrected and given a
new lease of life at intervals by an un¬
known power. But now we can see
the smoke driving heavenward and
shutting the blue of the west from our
vision—now tho houses show signs
that no man could mistake. A great
wall of flame fifty miles in length is
rolling towards us, fanned and driven
by a breeze of its own creation, but
coining slowly and grandly. It takes
me two ov three minutes to climb to
the top of one of the trees, and from
my elevated position i can get a grand
view of tho wave of lire which is
driving before it everything that lives.
Wo work fast. Blankets are wet at
the spring and hung up between the
trees to make a bulwark against the
sparks and smoke, the horses doubly
secured, camp equipage piled up and
covered, and before we are through
we have visitors. Ten or twelve
buffaloes come thundering—pass the
grove—halt and return to its shelter,
crowding as close to the horses as
they can and showing no fear at our
presence. Next come three or four
antelopes, their bright eyes bulging
out with fear, and their nostrils blow¬
ing out the heavy odor with sharp
snorts. One rubs against me and licks
ray hand.
Yelp! Yelp! Here are half a
dozen wolves, which crowd among the
buffaloes and tremble with terror, and
a score of serpents race over the open
ground to seek a wet ditch which car¬
ries off the overflow of the spring.
Last to come, and only u mile ahead
of the wave, which is licking up every¬
thing in its path, is a mustang—a sin¬
gle animal which has somehow been
separated from his herd.
lie comes from the north, racing to
reach the grove before the lire shall
cut him off, and he runs for his life.
With his cars laid back, nose pointing,
and his eyes fixed on the goal, his pace
is tl at of a thunderbolt. He leaps
square over one pile of camp outfit
and goes ten rods beyond before he
ean check himself. Then lie conics
trotting back and crowds between two
of our horses with a low whinny.
There is a roar like Niagara. The
smoke drives over us in a pall like
midnight. The air seems to be one
sheet of flame. The wave has swept
up to the edge of the bare ground, and
is dividing to pass us by. We are in
an oven. The horses snort, andcongli
and plunge, tlic wolves howl and moan
as the heat becomes intolerable. Thus
for five minutes, and then relief
comes. The flame has passed, and the
smoke is driving away. In this path
is a breeze, every whiff of which is an
elixir.
In ten minutes the grove is so clear
of smoke that we can see every foot of
earth again. A queer sight it is. It
has been tho haven of refuge for
snakes, lizards, gophers, prairie dogs,
rabbits, coyotes, wolves, antelopes,
deer, buffaloes, horses and men—
enmit •, antipathy and hunger sup¬
pressed for the nonce that all might
live—that each might escape the fiend
in pursuit.
For half an hour nothing moves.
Tlion the muslang flings up his head,
blows the last of the smikc from his
nos'rils, and starts of with a flourish
of liis heels. The bn IFalocs go next,
the deer and the aqtelope follow, and
iu five minute we are left alone.
For fifty mile3 to the north, west
and south there is nothing but black¬
ness—a landscape of despair. Away
to the east the wall of fire is still mov¬
ing on and on, implacable, relentless,
a fiend whose harvest is death, and
whose trail is destruction aud desola¬
tion.— [Detroit Free Press.
Getting Around It.
AVickwire—Hello! L thought you
stopped smoking on the first of the
month ?
Y'aba’cv—Well, I did. If a man
can’t go without smoking one day in
each month he Is an abject slave.—
llow the Dog Found the Handkerchief.
Can anyone match the following as
an instance of canine intelligence? A
party of childron had spent the fore¬
noon in a huckleberry pasture. A dog
belonging to a Mr. IVindlo, father of
one of the children, had been with
them. (If ho was like a dog I know,
he had hunted out a patch of black¬
berries, and had gone into business,
picking and eating on his own account.)
Upon their reaching home, it appeared
that the I’rindle girl had lost her pock¬
et handkerchief. The dog, being a
remarkable animal, and up to such
tricks, was sent back to flml it. He
came homo after a while, dispirited
and without the missing article. As
it would never do to allow a prece¬
dent like this to become established,
the owner went back with the animal
to the tield, and waited to see that he
properly performed his (ask.
lie was at first reluctant, aud sat on
his haunches for several minutes in a
state of evident mental dejection.
Suddenly he started up, all alert, with
the air of having solved the problem,
and what lie did was this: lie took his
position a rod or so from the outside
wall, and made a swift, circuit of the
entire tield, keeping that distance from
its boundaries. Returning to his start¬
ing point, lie took a new course a rod
or two inside his former one, and sur¬
rounded the field again as before. His
next course was at the same distance
inside that, ami so kept on, till, as
must in limo inevitably happen, he
found tlio handkerchief and gave it to
his master.
I have to confess that there is an
element of tradition about llie story of
Mr. Prindle’s dog, in this respect, that
it belonged to a former generation,
and that, while my informant—him¬
self of that generation, and acquaint¬
ed with botli master and dog—held it
as an unquestionable fact, I cannot
now absolutely verify.—[Christian
Union.
Children of Millionaires.
The richest heiress in the United
States—Faulinc Aslor, daughter of
William Waldorf Astor—dresses in
black for street ware, writes the New
York correspondent of the I’hiladcl-
phia Press. She goes driving every
day in the Astor carriage,accompanied
by her nurse and her two little broth¬
ers. She wears a plainly made gown
of soft, b’ack, woolen goods, a double
breasted jacket of black cloth, and a
black Leghorn hat, trimmed with
folds and rosettes of black mousselino
de soio. At home she wears plain
gowns of the finest French muslin,
with hand run tucks and hand em¬
broidered yokes and skirts. The mull
is so exquisitely tine that it is not sent
to the laundry,but instead to tho clean,
ers. There it is cleaned like silk or
satin.
The most sensibly dressed children
of the very rich families are those of
Mrs. Anson Phelps Stokes. Their
nursery lias every modern improve¬
ment, and none of the furniture is too
fine to be subjected to daily sun baths.
The walls are papered in pale blue,
with designs from Grimm’s “Fairy
Tails” and pictures of different coun¬
tries, with the fauna and flora of eacli
country grouped around it. The two
little children who live in this pretty
room wear pretty wool dresses, made
rather plain, and over them high
necked and long sleeve linen aprons,
finished with fluted rutiles at tlie neck
and wrists. For dress occasions they
have white silk and white mull dresses,
made very simple but sewed entirely
by hand, and their cloaks aad hats are
pure white.
Harvesting Siam’s Chief Crop.
When the rice is ready for cutting
iu Siam it looks very much like an
American oat or wheat field. If the
land is dry it is cut with sickles, and
stacked similar to American wheat.
When the waters are slow in going
down the fanners sometimes move
through the fields in boats and cut off
the heads of the rice aud put them in¬
to baskets. The thrashing is done by
buffaloes or oxen. A dry place is first
picked out for a thrashing floor. The
grass is cut off and the ground is made
smooth and level, a coat of plaster of
cow manure and water being spread
over it to make it solid.
A Well-behaved Parrot.
A gentleman noticed a fine-looking
parrot on a perch in a bird store the
other day. As the bird was neither
tied nor caged, the gentleman at once
made some inquiries: “Now, if I
should buy that parrot,” he said finally,
“1 suppose there is no danger of its
running away.”
“No. sir,” replied the fancier, “1
will guarantee that parrot will stay
| where you pnt it and won’t disturb
j your neighbors with its chatter. It is
j a stuffed bird. Nice job, isn’t it?”
j “Good morning,” said the gentle-
j man. as he hastily left tho store.
I OH Till: HOUSEWIFE,
CLEANING TOUTOISE-SHKI.I. ORNAMENTS.
All who are possessed of tine tor¬
toise shell ornaments or combs will bo
glad to know that they can be easily
cleaned and polished l>y dipping them
first in spirits of wine and rubbing
them thoroughly, polishing them after¬
ward with a little bismuth applied with
a chamois skin.
JKLI.Y IN Elill SHELLS.
Did any one ever try putting up
jelly in egg shells? It is so nice to
turn tho jelly out on a glass dish
moulded this way, especially for a
small family, when they do not want
to open a largo glass. I open tho eggs
at the small end, just largo enough to
get the substance out; wash the shell
dry. For a holder for these shells I
take a pasteboard box or top and cut
holes in them to make tho shells fit;
set them in and fill, Shells can be
saved a long while in advance for jolly
making.— [Atlanta Constitution.
WASItlNll COLORED STOCKINGS.
All colored s'oekings should he
washed by themselves in clear water
in which nothing else has been washed.
A good white soap should be used and
the water should bo only just luke-
warm. it is essential that colored
stockings should lie thoroughly rinsed
and wrung out as dry as possible.
Hang them by the fire in tho house
where they will dry as quickly as pos¬
sible. No stockings should be ironed,
ns this simply presses them out of
shape. Some housekeepers press silk
stockings smooth with a firm roll of
cloth tied over a smooth piece of wood
or a stone. Tho stocking is fastened
on the right side while still damp on
the ironing board and rubbed with
tliis hard roll till smooth and glossy.
— [New York Tribune.
TIIE W r ASHING DONE IN QUICK TIME.
One woman who lias given the sub¬
ject of washing clothes her earnest
consideration has finally adopted the
following plan, by which the wash for
a family of six can bo done in one
hour and a half. The clothes will be
spotlessly white and saved tho wear
and tear caused by rubbing on tho
boa.'d. On the morning sho elects to
wash she fills the boiler two-thirds full
of water, and shaves into it a bar of
good soap. When the water boils and
tb'j soap is dissolved two tablespoon-
fills and a half of kerosene aro added.
The oil instantly unites with the soap,
and should there be any oil floating on
the top of the water it is because not
enough soap has been put in or too
much oil.
She selects thou her tablecloths and
napkins and puts them in the boiler,
but not too many at a time. After
boiling hard for about ten minutes the
clothes are removed from the boiler,
rinsed through two waters and hung
out to dry. More pieces arc then put
in the same boilor, and if not
thoroughly clean after ten minutes
they are put back again for a few
minutes. Tho clothes are always
rinsed through two waters. If the
wash is very large the oil and soap
will need to be renewed.—New York
World.
NEW MODES OK COOKING COHN.
Some of the most appetizing corn
dishes we have ever used are the re¬
sults of experiments made with south¬
ern and Mexican recipes, several of
which are given below:
Corn and Tomato Ragout.—Cut one
pound of fresh pork in inch-square
pieces, fry it brown in a saucepan
with just fat enough to prevent burn¬
ing, add to it six large, ripe tomatoes,
peeled and sliced, and six ears of corn
cut from the cob; cover these ingredi¬
ents with boiling water, season slight¬
ly with salt, pepper, and sweet red
peppers, and boil the ragout slowly
for half an hour; serve with toast or
fried bread.
Corn and Chicken,—Dress a chicken
without washing it, cut it in joints,fry
it brown in just enough butter to pre¬
vent burning; add to it in the pan iu
which it was filed the grains cut from
twelve ears of corn, a quart of milk,
and sufficient salt and pepper to sea¬
son it highly; cook it gently for half
an hour, and serve it with toast, If
we must share the production of corn
with other countries, we can at least
contribute these distinctive ways of
cooking it.
Corn and Tomato Pudding—Grate
enough green corn to fill a pint mea¬
sure, peal and slice a pint of tomatoes,
boat six eggs smooth with four table¬
spoonfuls of sugar and a level tea-
spoonful of salt; dissolve four table-
spoonfuls of corn starch in one quart
of milk, put it over the fire, and stir
it constantly until it thickens; then put
all these ingredients into a buttered
baking dish and bake tho pudding half
au hour iu a quick oven without burn¬
ing it.—fChicngo News.
NO. 40.
In the Woods
IIow calm and cool
This sylvan pool,
Where water lilies bloom aud tremble;
The men In green
Must oft, I ween,
For merry mischief here assembly
Gay scarlet crests
Above brown nests
Are through the branches pertly peeping:
I .eat aught should dare
To venture where
Their warmly nestled young are sleeping-
The southern breeze
Sighs through the trees
To those who idly sit and listen*
The forest flowers
With summer shower
So softly in the sunUvht glistep
The hazy air
With perfumes rare
Steals to the seuses faintly blended;
Dame Nature may
This perfect day
For Pan’s delight have sole Intended.
—[New Orleans Plonyunc.
HUMOROUS.
“Ladies in waiting”—Old maids.
An occnn greyhound should bo bark
rigged.
A Plain Healer—A seller of prairie
real eslate.
The laborer with the crowbar gener¬
ally takes pried in Ids business.
If a husband and wifo aro one, is
the man beside himself when lio
by his wife?
If delays are dangerous, the legal
profession contains the pluckiest men
iu the world.
“Why do you call that group of
middle-aged ladies on the piazza an¬
atomists?” “Bocausc they are always
cutting up people.”
A young lady sent to a newspaper a
poem entitled, “1 cannot make him
smile.” The editor ventured to ex¬
press an opinion that she would have
succeeded had she shown him tho
poem.
“Oil. look at those big waves,” said
the girl at the seashore; “those are
breakers,aren’t they,pa?” “Yes,” said
the old gentleman, us he gazed at tho
hotel bill, “they arc breakers.”
■ She—“Don’t you think you had bet¬
ter have a shine? Your shoes are very
dingy.” lie—“Why, (hey don’t need
it—they are patent leather.” She—
<‘The jiatent must have expired; you
had better get it renewed.”
American millionaire (In Paris,
proudly)—“My daughter is being
waited upon by a duke.” Old
Traveler—“Well, dukes make excel¬
lent waiters. Thero are several of
them in our rostaurant, too.”
Watches Mndo Unreliable.
People who ride on the electric cars
on the Fourth avenue line complain
that their watches do not keep time.
Some of thorn hnvo appealed to the
World for information as to the cause-
Electrical experts suv the motors on
the electric cars are responsible. Those
motors are fed by storage batteries,
which in turn are charged with a con-
inuous current in a central station.
The magnets of tho motors magnetize
tho liair-sprmg3 of watches, and the
springs, being of hard steel, become
permanent magnets. This leads the
several coils to seek to “get together,”
as other magnetic bodies do, anil thus
interfere with the movement of the
watch’s machinery.
The continuous current dynamos in
Lite electric-light stations frequently so
magnetize watches that they will not
run at all until demagnetized. One of
tho electric-light companies maintains
an instrument in the Equitable Build¬
ing for the purpose of demagnetizing
nlllicted watches. The alternating cur¬
rent is much less severe on watches
than the continuous current, but close
proximity to one of the alternating
dynamos will also often affect the relia¬
bility of a time-piece. Tho magnetiza¬
tion of watches has become so serious
that a company lias been organized to
manufacture non-inagnotic second
springs.—[New York World.
Making Bottles by Machinery.
It is stated that a new process fot
making all classes of glass bottles by
machinery has recently been perfeefed
and patented by Mr. Samuel Washing¬
ton of Ilarpurhey, Manchester. The
patentee claims that bottles are by this
process of manufacture likely to be
produced at one-quarter the cost of la¬
bor, besides a better finished article
being the result. The bottle is made
completely in one operation, in place
of two, as formerly. Thus the delicate
operation of putting on tho neck,
which requires considerable skill and
lengthy experience, will be obviated,
and must of necessity result in an im¬
mense saving in its cost. It is claimed
to effect a saving iu this respect of
from 50 lo 70 per ceut. Small articles,
such as medicals and that class of
wares which are imported from the
Continent, will be producod at a cost
which will meet Continental competi¬
tion,