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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,