The next big event of this kind will be the opening of the Panama-Pacific Exposition, at San Francisco, next year. Several days before the date of the official opening the telegraph offices at points along the route selected for the flash will be notified that at a certain hour, on a certain day, the president will open the exposition. About thirty minutes before the time set the Washington office will “cut in” a wire from the White House and attach it to one of a certain number of wires assigned for exclusive service between Washington and Chicago. It is the custom to rig two circuits out of Washington, to prevent possible accidents or mistakes that would delay the message. Chicago is notified that wires, say No. 119 and No. 104, Washington and Chicago, will be used for the flash. During the full half hour prior to the sending of the flash these wires are kept absolutely clear of messages, except the signals of the wire chiefs, who are rigging the circuit. “Repeaters” are placed at frequent intervals along the route. The “repeaters” are simply instruments used to add further energy to the circuit at different points. They do not really repeat the president’s flash. The initial impulse given at Washington carries straight through to the coast. When the Chicago office learns that Washington is using wires 119 and 104, these wires are promptly hooked up with other wires through to Omaha, Neb., or Ogden, Utah, and the word passes along the line. The Ogden operator finishes the circuit and San Francisco is advised to make ready for the flash. At precisely the time named the president steps to a button in the White House offices, gives it a push, and the exposition opens. It is the special nature of the flash that wears on the nerves of the telegraph men. If a presidential message should go wrong, they would account it a big blot upon their records. As soon as the flash has gone through the circuit is dismantled and the telegraph traffic flows on. Four-room Dwelling Hacked from Rock. James Homer, of Inez, Ky., is building, or rather making, one of the strangest houses ever heard, told of in this section of the country. He has undertaken to pick and hack a four-room dwelling place out of a solid rock, which is seventy-five feet high and projects out of the mountainside some forty or fifty feet. Homer claims he will have it finished by 1916. He said, in a recent interview: “Some people may think I am crazy, but I am perfectly sane. This is a vast undertaking, but I consider nothing is impossible to the man that has a will. ‘Where there’s a will there’s a way,’ you know. “I think this will be an ideal home for my wife and four children, and when I have it finished I am going to give a house party, one that will be a surprise, indeed, to the people of Rockcastle Creek, for this will be the only house of the kind that I ever heard of, and probably the only one that any of my neighbors have ever seen.” Gives His Life for Science.