A lamp of some character has been used since a period so remote that no trace of its origin is to be found, but the lamp, as we understand it, was the invention of Aime Argand, a Frenchman, and he came about the effectiveness of this lighting apparatus in a most unique way. Argand never fairly lifted himself out of the rut of poverty, but lived and died poor, disappointed and neglected. He was born at Geneva, Switzerland, in 1755, but he was living in England in 1782, when his first lamp was produced. The main feature of his lamp was that the wick fitted into a hollow cylinder, up which a current of air was allowed to pass, admitting a free supply of oxygen to the interior as well as the exterior of the circular flame. Interesting New Inventions. To keep telephones clean a San Francisco inventor has patented a machine that automatically covers a transmitter with paper after it has been used, which paper must be removed before the instrument is used again. A newly invented electrical device measures off the ten-millionth part of a second with accuracy. A space-saving household novelty is a folding washtub, which is locked against collapsing when filled with water. A coat and hatrack combined with a fire escape is a new and useful piece of household furniture. So that automobiles can be run on railroad tracks, flanged steel rims have been invented that are attached by deflating the tires and then inflating them until they grip the rims. Two Wisconsin inventors have patented a kerosene lamp that is automatically extinguished if upset or even lifted from a support. A California genius has rigged up a motor cycle with battery and motor, so that he dispenses with the use of gasoline. Cows Travel Far to Mourn. Employees at the cattle pens at Paoli freight station, in Philadelphia, Pa., were puzzled the other day when they found two stray cows near the pens when they reported for work. The cows were lowing and wouldn’t be driven away. When F. H. Bernheisel, a cattle dealer of Newtown Square, arrived, he said that the cows were the mothers of two calves found trampled dead when a car containing a herd consigned to him was unloaded at Paoli. The calves were buried soon after the unloading, and Bernheisel’s employees drove the herd to his farm. The two mother cows got away from the pasture during the night and made the seven-mile journey to their “babies” at Paoli in darkness. Now Numbers His Children.