THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES N J. r\ ^ K ■< < E (C (0 a H I • CONTRIBUTED TO BY ALL THE PRINCIPAL WRITERS IN THE RANKS OF TELEGRAPHIC LITERATURE, AS WELL AS SE\T:RAL WELL-KNOWN OUTSIDERS. With N7nne7^07cs J/Vood-Ciit Ilbistrations, NEW YORK: W. J. JOIIXSTON, PUBLISHER, No. 11 FRANKFORT STREET. 1877. Entered, accordiiig to Act of Congress, in the j'car 1877, By W. J. JOHNSTON, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress in Washington. 6Z3I PREFACE. ■♦>» To the many thousands scattered over tlie entire country who are engaged or interested in the wonderful art of telegraphy, this book will probably need neither preface nor apology. To the general reader, however, into whose hand it may fall, it might be well to say that the telegraph business of late years has made such rapid progress, and the number of its votaries become so great, that the art seems to demand a literature of its own. The object of this volume is to present articles from each of the principal telegraphic writers, with a few on telegraphic subjects from well-known outsiders. While the primary object has been to make the book of especial interest to telegraphers, an endeavor has been made to avoid all technical terms and expressions not understood by those unconnected with the business. For this reason it is hoped that the book will be welcomed not only by telegraphers themselves, but also find friends among the great outside world as well. This is the second book published with a view of giving telegraphy a litera- ture of its own. The first was very successful, and the indication, judging from advance orders and the interest already exhibited, would point to a still larger appreciation of this one. In the present work all the very foremost telegraphic writers have been culled from, and when, for the purpose of a comparison between the writings of telegraphers and professional litterateurs^ outside writers have been introduced, such only have been chosen as have already won for themselves distinction and a name among men of letters. A great deal of expense has been incurred in the preparation of the book, and unusual care taken in selecting the matter it contains, and guarding against typographical and other errors. If it shall meet the approval of those for whom it is prepared, however, the labor and expense will not have been expended in vain. JL-L/ I ^m » Tlie Volcanograph. The most casual observer of our professional peculiarities is aware that in the long cate- gory of telegraphic offenses none is con- sidered more aggravating than " breaking in" on a through press wire. The habit — it has grown to be a habit now — is cultivated especially by a breed of country lunatics whose knowledge of " adjustment " is very limited. This much objurgated individual generally gets to his pranks about midnight, when the rain is falling in torrents and the wire work- ing "hard." The sending operator, care- worn and haggard-looking, is still plodding away, while at the other end of the line the receiver has " adjusted away out." He is not getting more than half of the signals sent, but with the spirit of a Bonaparte, and his head bowed down close to the instrument, he is bravely taking it in, in the vain hope of a speedy good-night. The two men know each other personally ; they were out west together years ago, and years before that again they had earned reputations for them- selves in the same office ; and, owing to the entire confidence which each puts in the re- liability of his friend, miles of Suj^reme Court decisions, political speeches, clerical investi- gations, and cables are literally melting away before their nimble fingers. But just about the time that bright hope is dawning, here comes our " way " student, and in his blind ignorance of anything like proper adjustment, commences to practice ; or, as he says him- self, to " 6rac.tice." To have one of these cadets of the tele- graph practicing at any time is bad enough, but when the merciless ghoul's rule of life is never to begin before midnight, and his system of pursuing that variety of intellectu- al improvement extends no further than the alphabet, the numerals, the various stops and commas, and the headings of half rate blanks, it is infinitely more exasperating and atroci- ous. It is bad enough to have one of these hobgoblins break in in the midst of a two-col- umn special, asking all kinds of unsolicited and unwelcome conundrums as to what you are " fi4ing " him, etc., but when you knoio he is not adjusted, and hear his melancholy " A, B, S, K, E," and so on, ground out with all the horrors and uncompromising continuity of a surgical operation, a faithful operator is to be excused for courting even death itself in his desire to be avenged. Hitherto there has been no alternative but to get another wire by some round-about route, and to switch the electric clock on the abandoned circuit ; send your special on the former, while on the latter the indomitable plug puts in the remainder of the night " fighting for circuit " with the steady and unyielding " tick, tick " of that reliable elec- tric clock, which he fondly imagines is some irate first-class operator. But science now comes to our relief in the shape of the volcanograph, a 2,000 cell dyna- mite battery, worked by a lever and crank in the main office. Under ordinary circumstances I am un- LIGUTNING FLASHES. alterably opposed to the immolation of even plugs hy means of disintegrated battery jars and giant sounders, especially since our ranks are being decimated by the axe of the official headsman, but for once I must attempt to justify a fell scheme whicli forever abol- ishes that delectable model of idiotic per- versity, the embryo i»lug. Its operation is generally instantaneous, and, therefore, in the main, devoid of cruelty. The too confiding way station (I use tlie neuter gender in the same sense that lawyers speak of "the Court ") breaks in to practice, and after legal argument has been exhausted, your cliief turns on the volcauograph, and the devasta- tion at the said way station is complete ; that which was once a profusion of smiling confidence, jocularity, and tribute flowers, is in an instant turned to a blackened heap of keys, sounders, relays, and inanimate plug, and the good work of expediting good-night goes bravely on. It was a bright, sunshiny day when we made our first official experiment with the volcanogra]jh, but the rash victim at Thomp- sonville was just as perverse as on the dreari- est wet night in mid-winter. His name was Junius B. riugg, by the way — Junius Brutus Plugg, of Butler County, Pennsylvania. He had his most intimate friends in the office, as usual, and was explaining to them, in his loftiest style, the fun of contending for circuit, and of compelling that champion operator in the main office to humiliate him- self by meekly " backing down," His smoking friend, the gardener, was chuckling with de- light at the thought of what wonderful mys- teries his friend, young Plugg, had fought and conquered, A passing young man, who had often heard fairy-like tales of the tele- graph — indeed, the operator had recently crossed him in love — strayed in at the door, and listened with mingled feelings of envy and astonishment to the running commentarv on armatures and rheostats which his rival, young Mr. Plugg, was then indulging in. The doctor was there, too ! " The doctor " — a mighty individual — the village druggist, and a kind of wizard in the estimation of the countryfolks; one who passed liis life like any other first-class rustic druggist, except when occasionally a vigorous outburst of in- tellect led him to inspect some such common- ])lace affair as a wayside telegraph office ; one of those happy men who not only regarded himself with the greatest complacency as a representative American, but who was con- stantly detecting innumerable deficiencies in others. He was in the habit of standing off the same landlady for board as was his friend, young Mr. Plugg ; so that, as tlicy both owed astonishingly large bills, and fully in- tended to liquidate each other's account some day, their hearts beat in sympathy. As young ]Mr. Plugg was an operator, he was, consequently, " chock" full of teclmical tele- graph talk, which the doctor used to cabbage and fire off as inedical opinions and prescrip- tions at his patients ; and, as the doctor was also one of those bright individuals of an in- vestigating turn of mind, to whom the most trifling incident was a prolonged nightmare of disquieting mystery, they were again bound in sympathy. Furthermore, as " Sam " (that's the way he used to refer to Professor Morse) was an intimate personal friend of his, and as the telegraph itself was merely a hackney'd familiarity to him ; and as he was entangled in several knotty questions at the Lyceum, and implicated in countless intricate and perplexing conundrums propounded an- onymously frum time to time in the weekly papers, lie had no hesitation in accepting his young friend's humble invitation to be pre- sent. He would learn something, if that were possible ; he could at least direct, so to speak, the scientific part of young Mr. Pluirg's efforts to compel the main office to back down. He had brought his favorite goose along, a domesticated bird on the shady side of thirty which he was fattening on a purely scientific principle for Thanksgiving Day ; a description of which and the fatten- ing principle would occupy too much space in this sketch. Let it suffice to chronicle the important fact that his gooseship was THE rOLCANOOEAPH. liere, alive uiul well, and that the comite- iiances of all present reflected the inward " Give them another tttrn," ttkged the poctor. feeling of confidence which was reposed in young Mr. Plugg and his wonderfid ma- chine, and, moreover, in that learned and profound thinker — the doctor. The performance having got fairly under way, young Mr. Plugg explained to his ad- miring friends that the main office had got mad and said " go away," and that he (young Mr. Plugg) had promptly replied " 73," a piece of witticism which elicited the most ex- travagant terms of approbation from the brilliant assemblage, and as the doctor went into the most alarming convulsions of laugh- ter, they all did likewise. Youno- Mr. Plugg next explained that the main office was threatening to bombard the way stations, a threat which the doctor laugh- ed to scorn, remarking, by way of illustration, that when the key was open no communica- tion could be had, and urging young Mr. Pluo-o- to " ffive them another turn." The gardener, who couldn't tell a relay from the yard arm of a ship, was wildly demonstrative in vouching for the accuracy of the doctor's theory. The young man at the door nodded his liumble assent, well satisfied with the doctor's proposal, and the favorite goose on the shady side of thirty flapped his feather- less wings with delight at the prospect. Young Mr. Plugg, feeling that he was being lured on to deeds of greater glory, proceeded to "give them another turn," as the doctor expressed it, but the volcanograjih cut him short, and the next moment Philadelphia was again hurrying his special to Chicago, with- out the slightest resistance on the part of Junius Brutus Plugg, of Butler County, Pennsylvania. There was a green Irishman on the roof fix-, ing a leaky spot, and as the blazing liquid brass came whizzing through he mused on tele- graphs in general, and wondered if it wasn't a hazardous business to work at. Not fully comprehending the situation, he, of course, But the Volcanograph cut him shoet. thought the racket was all in the regular course of telegraphic events, and watched 10 LIGUTNINQ FLASHES. with much curiosity the old bootlegs and broken office furniture and copies of " Oak- xim Pickings" that came whanging through the shingles nntil they shot out of sight sky- ward, and then he wondered how long it would take those " messages " to reach New York. The young man at the door fared pretty well — simply because he \oas at the door — and any one who saw him two minutes after he had been at the door, skipping through a corn-iield with a hole shot in his coat, would be convinced that he was fully impi-essed with the solemn fact ; although lie still thought it was a put up job on the part of Mr. Plugg and a certain fair but faithless one. The learned doctor arose from a distant cor- ner with a very kind but supernaturally sober expression on his ftice, remarking that young men should not be allowed to tamper with those carbon batteries, especially in an at- mosphere filled with oxygen, where they ex- panded to 9,000 their ordinary bulk, and ex- plaining to nobody in particular that there Lad been too inuch nitro-genic tension on the electro-motor. Indeed, so much taken np was he with the losjarimths and abstruse technicalities of the subject that he never noticed that one side of his whiskers had been blasted oif nntil the Irishman, who was then looking down in horror through a hole in the ceilinc:, called his attention to that trifling circumstance. This information seemed to make him still more dignified, and noticing the dead goose (the poor creature on the shady side of thirty was stark and dead) he stooped, seized it by the feet, slung its car- cass over his shoulder, and with measured tread and all due devotional sadness de- parted. The gardener, who had been hit with seven- teen million volts of dynamite battery in seventeen hundred different places inside of a second of time, and had lost his pipe and a new Sunday hat beside, without knowing def- initely what had struck him, was seen shortly afterward on the grocery corner denouncing his late friend, young Mr. Plugg, as a " gol darned fraud," and exhibiting his nose (which was a shocking wreck) to a sympa- thizing crowd in proof of that sweeping- ac- cusation. The people smiled at each other and winked, for several of them had seen the doctor staggering home with a dead goose slung over his shoulder, and, therefore, they were not quite sure that it wasn't another "jamboree." Years have rolled by 'since then. Junius Brutus Plugg, of Butler County, Pennsyl- vania, lias left the business long ago, and he now drives a team. His face is forever scarred and streaked with blue jiowder marks like the tattoo embellishments on a South Sea Island warrioi'. His nervous sys- tem has been affected for many a j'car, and he is alwa3'S worrj'ing about sudden acci- dents. He resides with his wife and children on the western shore of the Delaware Bay, in the sixteen-inch steel turret of a monitor vessel which was wrecked near there ; and has built himself a barricade all around and an iron hurricane deck in front, to keep off the mosquitoes, so he says. Often on a bleak winter's night, after all the young Pluggs have been dragged in through the port-holes to supper, he tells them queer anecdotes of the past ; and in the mul- tiplicity of subjects discussed on such occa- sions never fails to get in his well known disquisition on the falsity and absurdity of modern inventions. Telegraphing, as he as- serts, is a creditable occupation, but on the whole, he prefers his present occupation — driving a non-explosive machine. He tells the admiring young crowd that he was once an operator, and, thank goodness, can lay the flatterinor unction to his soul that in his time he worked as fast as the best of them. He had received from New York for three days and two nights at a stretch without a break, and made $173 extra in one month. His writing used to go clear as a bell through seven repeaters. He never stuck but once, and that was prior to '68. Then there's a long and painful silence, while the hot tears roll down the veteran's powder-marked face, THE MONTH OF MAT. 11 gets in her favorite solilo- and his daughter quy on " never till life and memoiy perish." It takes the old man a long time, tocrether with many a strong dose from the domestic Btore of applejack, to compose himself; but as he reaches over the table for the last piece of custard pie, he gives his eldest son Junius a terrific back-handed whack in the jaw in answer to an innocent request to elucidate the mysteries of the volcanograph. CrPHER messages are always more or less perplex- ing to the telegraphic fraternity, but the following one proved to be above the average. A gentleman recently stepped into a telegraph ofBce in one of the large cities in Missouri, wrote out the following message to be sent to an eastern city, and handed it to the operator, who is a lady : " Darling, kick glutton to-day." The lady gazed at it in amaze- ment, nor was her surprise any the less when a re- ply was received which said, " Kiss glutton to-day." The gentleman called for his reply, whereupon the lady closely examined his appearance, wondering whether his mind was not impaired. He realized the situation, and in a few words explained that the first message as understood by the firm would read, " 325 brls. must be shipped to — to-day," and the reply, " "Will ship to — to-day." The explana- tion proved satisfactory, and both enjoyed the joke. 13 LIGIITXIXG FLASHED Edward O. Chase (Niif Ced) Was bom in Philadelphia. He first turned his at- tention to telej^raphy while employed on the en- gineer corps of the Pennsylvania Railroad in 1865. In the summer of '67 he joined a party of United States engineers, and with them went to Nebraska to make a geological survey of that Territory. Re- turning home the following winter he then began the actual business of telegraphing, securing a posi- tion as operator and clerk for the Pennsylvania yteel Company at their works at Baldwin Station near Harrisburg, Pa. He remained at this place during the winter months, but in the early summer of '68 a recurrence of the fever and ague, contracted the previous season in the region of the head waters of the Missouri, compelled his resignation and obliged him to go north. He next turns up as operator in Portsmouth, N. II., on the line of the now defunct International Telegraph Company, which was ab- sorbed by the Western Union in 1873. At the close of the year he was promoted to the main ofBce of the same company in Portland, Maine, and next went to Augusta as report operator, engaged in transmitting to Portland and Boston the reports of the State Legislature. Returning to Portland at the end of the session, he soon after resigned his position and accepted the managership of the summer office of the W. U. at Crawford House, White Mountains. At the close of the season he was ordered to Portland ^Y■ U. office, and late in the fall of '68 was sent to Bangor, Maine, as night manager and press receiver, which position he filled to the satisfiiction of all concerned until July 5th, 1873, when night work having re- sulted in failing health, his resignation took effect and he left the business to return home and accept the assistant secretaryship of tlie American Iron and Steel Association of Philadelphia, where his duties consisted chiefly in the editorship of the bulletin of the association during the absence of the secretary. In the spring of '73 he had a relapse of the old un- easiness and returned to his first love, this time as operator at the Ocean House summer office of the Western Union at Newport, R. I. At the close of the season he entered into the manufactory of ma- chinists' tools and light machinery, as manager of his father's factory in Newark, N. J., which position he still occupies, only having left it to assume the position of chief operator at Saratoga Springs, N. Y., Western Union office during the seasons of 1874 and '75. In '76 he declined many telegraphic offers to attend the Centennial as exhibitor in Ma- chinery Hall aud correspondent of The Operator. Mr. Chase is widely known among the fraternity as an amiable gentleman of much culture of mind, and possessing social and literary talents of a high order. As a telegrapher he is recognized as a first- class man in every respect. May his original and humorous articles long continue to grace the col- umns of The Oi'EIUTOR, aud may his shadow never be less. A Leaf of Autohiof/raiiliy, "If you will come over and see Sanderson right away," wrote my friend, the managing editor of The Plantation Harbinger, " I think you can obtain the position of local editor. Gregory has lit out." Sanderson was the proprietor of The Harbinger, and I was a new comer in the journalistic field who wanted work, so I went in pursuit of him. I met Gregory on my Avay over and asked him what was the trouble, and where he was going. " To Boston," he answered. " Sanderson does not pay his help." " Why," I returned, " his managing editor, Mr. Fenceslat, has just Avritten me a note asking me to cro and see Sanderson about the situation you have vacated. He said nothing about bad pay, simply stating that you had ' lit out.' " " Fenceslat is in the ring," observed Greg- ory, significantly, and he hastened in the direction of the Boston depot. It was with my enthusiasm considerably abated that I entered the presence of Mr. Sanderson. I knew him slightly ; his rotund form and genial face, in connection with a stub-tailed horse and Concord wagon being familiar to about every man woman and child in town. He was a person who never wholly lost his aplomb under the most discouraging circumstances, as I afterward learned, and Avho, under ordinary conditions, was a per- fect Chesterfield. It will be a good many years into the future before I shall have for- gotten the cordial grasp he gave my hand and the benignant smile which played upon his lips as he said: " Mr. Fenceslat's heart is set upon having you come on our paper as local editor. I have studied with great care such occasional work as you have done for us. It is exceed- ingly good. I am a man of few words, Mr. Phillips. I like you. I want you to like me. I do business on the square. I will pay you twenty dollars per week, and you get your cash every Saturday." Afterward I learned that Sanderson never read a line in his paper unless his attention was called to sometlung, and he read it then under protest. I learned a great deal during the next year, but of that hereafter. " Mr. Gregory said — " " One moment," interrupted Sanderson, " see you again in a second," and he went to his desk and making a note for thirty days sent it to the bank. Before I could resume my story about Gregory, Sanderson said : " I never like to talk about a man behind his back. But here are the facts in a nutshell: Mr. Gregory is a good fellow, sharj) writer and all that, but he is extravagant. He has drawn his salary in advance ever since he came here from New Haven. Yesterday he wanted me to advance him a hundred dollars. I declined, and he is gone, thank fortune. It is a good paymaster who pays when the work is done. I do that. I am willing to pay one or two weeks' salary in advance, but I can't furnish money to everybody who comes along in quantities to suit — like to ac- commodate, you know, but it isn't business, and I am not in a position to do it without cramping myself. Another thing," he went on glibly, " Gregory's wife is afraid of thunder and lightning, and every time a shower comes along off he goes home — no matter if it's only eight o'clock. Now, the local editor of a morning paper can't go home at eight o'clock in the evening and do justice to the city de- partment. I tolerated this because I wished the man well, but you know how 'tis your- self. There comes a straw one day that breaks the camel's back, and Gregory's con- stant hypothecation of his salary and his at- tempts to browbeat me into lending him large sums have done the business for him." After a great nmnber of compliments on my lively way of writing, and no end of as- surances that if a man did not "impose on him unreasonably it was all right," I left the 14 LIGHTNING FLASHES. mighty presence with a very high regard for Sanderson and a very seriously changed heart toward ray avaricious predecessor. And if Gregory's rapacity in seeking to do a sort of free banking with his employer hadn't settled him in my estimation, his habit of going home " in the midst of a murder," as San- derson said, " if a thunderstorm came up," would have done the business for him of it- self. I had engaged myself for one year at twenty dollars per week, and began work the next day. As I had only worked half a week when pay-day came I thought it wiser to let the amount lie until the next Saturday, and I did so. As my hours were from seven r. M. to two or three a. m., and as Sanderson seldom, if ever, visited the editoi'ial rooms at night, I did not see liim from one end of the week to the other. Occasionally I visited the counting room to find it in charge of a supremely saucy boy, who sat on a high stool and shrilly whistled, and who invariably answered the question, " When will Sander- son be in ? " with a grunt, which the practiced ear i-ecognized as " give it up." But though I saw him not, Sanderson sent me numerous kind messages during the week, and finally, at the bottom of one of his pleasant notes, he wrote : " Didn't see you Saturday ; money waiting for you." On receipt of that missive so great was my confidence in his intecjrity I would have lent him a thousand dollars could I have raised it. When Saturday arrived I went to the counting room and ran up- stairs with a light step. Sanderson was not in, and several persons with anxious faces were in waiting. To my question as to when Mr. Sanderson would be in, the shrill whistler grunted as usual, and as I seemed at a loss what to say, he volunteered the remark : " Don't pay ofF till two o'clock." The city clock struck eleven as I passed down stairs and out upon the busy street. I felt very sure about Sanderson, but I had my doubts about the boy, Creeks. He was becoming a thorn in my side with his stereo- typed " give it up," and liis disturbing re- marks. I was positive he misrepresented Mr. Sanderson, and took advantage of his absence to snub and render uncomfortable not only employes, but also patrons of the paper. I determined to speak to Mr. Sanderson about him and have him admonished — annihilated, if possible. I returned to the office at five minutes past two o'clock to find the little countinGT room crowded with compositors, pressmen, report- ers, editors, route boys, bootblacks, and a great many others. As I peered over the sea of shoulders my eyes caught tliose of San- derson, and he shouted, " Make room there for Mr. Phillips." As I approached the desk Sanderson dipped a pen, put his chubby fin- ger where he wished me to sign, and before I had scarcely finished my name he placed thirty dollars before me. I stepped aside to make room for Dr. Flowers, our foreman, who had just came in, but I did not retire, as I wished to consult Sanderson about several matters which struck me as being of vital im- portance to The Harbinger's welfare. As I stood waiting I observed that Dr. Flowers' youthful face wore an expression much crraver than I had ever seen there before. I was surprised that no pen was dipped for him to sign with, and that Sanderson re- quested no one to " make room for Dr. Flowers." The doctor was admitted behind the counter after a few seconds and Sanderson whispered with him earnestly. Then a ten dollar note was handed him, and lie walked out looking very severe. I saw it all. Dr. Flowers had been drawing his salary in ad- vance, and Sanderson would only be imposed upon within reasonable bounds. He had given the doctor ten dollars, which was gen- erous under the circumstances. My heart warmed toward him for his liberality. Next came Henry Child, the news editor. " What can I do for you, Henry ? " in- quired Sanderson. " Let me have twenty, said Child, " rent due." " Sorry, but I can't do it, Henry," returned Sanderson, in the blandest tones imaginable. " Here," he added, " is two dollars in pennies. A LEAF OF AUTOBIOGUAPUT. V. Now git." I had no doubt Henry Child had overdrawn his salary by several hundred dollars, and his assurance in coming to ask for money at all surprised and pained me. The next Saturday Mr, Sanderson paid me with less alacrity, and I noticed that he ad- dressed me by ray given name. A week later he said '* Wally, old boy, here's fifteen dollars for you, can't make change any nearer. Hand you the other five Monday," and upon my third appearance he simply handed me a ten dollar note with the observation : " Here you go, Pliil, hang up the other ten with that five I owe you on last week." " But what kind of a way to do business is this? "I asked. " Oh, run along, sonny," said Sanderson, with a smile ; " no time to ' yawp ' on the day pi-eceding the peaceful Sabbath. Come in any day but Saturday and we will talk matters ujx" I walked out considerably down in the mouth. " Come in any day but Saturday " was refreshing in the extreme. As if I liadn't visited his office day after day to talk about the feasibility of having another re- porter added to our iorce, and been met by that incorrigible whistler whose " give it up " had become a perfect nightmare. Mr. Sanderson was seldom in, though I found during my periods of watching and waiting that very few men were in greater demand. On making my fifth appearance as I reached for a pen my employer said : " You needn't sign that book, Phil." " Not sign ! " I ejaculated, thoroughly non- plussed. " Xo ; money about all gone. Have to pay the compositors or they won't go to work Sunday night — have no paper Monday. You and Child and Flowers get three dollars apiece to-day, and that settles your hash. Members of the intellectual department are supposed to work for fame, not money." He handed me three dollars, and inquired if I would liko to go to the Theodore Thomas concert that evening. Replying in the aftirmativc, he passed me two complimentary tickets, and dashed down stairs. A moment later he was gathering up the reins which had fallen under the feet of the stub-tailed horse, and I sat watching him as one in a trance. " Creeks ! Creeks ! " called Sanderson. Creeks made a break in the tune he had been whistling ever since I knew liim, and going to the window responded, " Aye, aye." "Charge Phillips with six dollars — three cash, and three for those Thomas concert tickets," said Sanderson. And then he drove away. To say that I was enraged as I tore up street, but feebly expresses the intemperate frame of mind in which 1 found myself after all this. I soon met Flowers and Child and began ray tale of woe. They stopped rae at once and said : " So he's landed yoii too, eh?" Give us your hand." I felt that congratula- tions were not by any means in order, but I raechanically put forth ray hand and both shook it warmly. They knew that I had "joined the band." I staid on The Harhinger a whole year, and with the exception of such payments as I have mentioned, I never received a dollar in cash. AVhy I remained I can not explain. Fenceslat, who had once visited Sanderson with the determination of squeezing fifty dollars out of him, was assuaged with an " order " for a grindstone ; but in the face of this asking for money and receiving a stone, Fenceslat still stuck to the paper, and " sali- vated the Republican party," as he expressed it, months and months after his labor had ceased to bring shekles. Flowers and Child, the ancient and j)recise ship news reporter — God bless you all — and many others were doina: the same thinrj and wonderinij at it, TJiere was something in the atmosphere of The Harbinf/er oftice which had a mollifying efiV;ct on everybody who entered Sanderson's service, and at the end of two months I found myself very avcII contented with my lot, a i)op- ular man around town, and tlie possessor of more furniture, curtains, cooking stoves, etc., which I had taken from Sanderson or pur- chased on his "orders," than I knew what to 10 LIGUTNING FLASHES. do will). AVlien I had been with liim six months, I was one day in sore need of money and sout^ht liis office. Luckily T found him in, and I state^l my case witli an eloquence that oui>'ht to liave moved him. IJut it didn't. He listened patiently until I had closed, and then replied: "Haven't a dollar, but," pointing to a corner, " there are two hundred and fifty feet of galvanized iron clothes line that I took on an advertisement Avhich l"!! sell you cheap." I retired, heart-broken. 3Ir. Sanderson was a man of "orders." There was nothing under the canopy "from a rotten apple to a locomotive," as he phrased it, which he could not furnish on call or give an "order" for. "I get a man to advertise in IVie Ilarhhujer as a general thing," he ex- ]ilained, "on the strength of my offerijig to take my pay out in trade.. Then I send you or Child or Flowers or Fenceslat and buy about fifty dollars worth, and I keep buying so that I am always ahead of that man. He wants to take his advertisement out at the end of three months, but he can not do it because I am owing him. Had men in this paper several years in just that way. Once in a while a man gets mad and I have to square up with him in cash and let him take his advertisement out, but that don't often happen." It happened sometimes, however, when I was ])resent, and it was then that Sanderson's abilities shone resplendent. The reader must have surmised that Sanderson was always short of ready money. He was. So when one of these troublesome advertisers came along and demanded a settlement, Sanderson would meet him somethinu: as follows: " I owe you a balance of 679.85. I have no money, but I'll give you my note for thirty days. Put it in your bank, get her discounted, and I'll pay the discount. Just as good as cash." To this the party of the other part would assent, and Sanderson would draw up a note in very pretty shape, and bringing it over would say : " I've made this note for a hundred and fifty dollars because I make all my notes for a round sum. You get it discounted and send me your check for the balance. Here, Creeks, go down with Mr. Blank and bring back a check." And before the astonished re- cipient of the note could recover his ecpiipose, Sanderson would have bowed him out of the room. Sometimes the men who accepted these jtromises to pay, and gave checks which could be used immediately, found themselves in a rather embarrassed situation Avhen the notes matured. Sanderson Avas one of those men who imagined that it added dignity and character to a i)romissory note to let it go to protest. Thus it would often happen that after the disaffected advertiser had enjoyed the felicity of paying Sanderson's note, and had visited the whistler fifteen or twenty times without even getting a sight of the object of his search, I would receive a letter from Sander- son instructing me to write a third of a column notice puffing the business of the man to whom the note had been given. When this appeared, Sanderson would drive to the store of his whilom customer, and lay- ing The Ilarhinger before him would say : "It's the biggest kind of a shame that I haven't taken up that note, but I have notr had the money. I haven't it now, but if it would give you any satisfaction to kick me you are at liberty to do it," and he would present himself for chastisement. I believe, however, that he Avas never kicked. After this the editorial notice, Avhicli I had written the night before, Avould be read as Sanderson's own production, and in nine cases out of ten that hundred and fifty dollars Avould eventually be taken out in advertising. And the men thus won over never deserted him. They had met the enemy and they were his. Many years have pa-ssed since I wrote my last line for 71ie Harbinger^ but sometimes, sitting in the twilight, the remembrance of those old days comes back with such start- ling force that it seems as if the atmosphere of that dingy editorial room was still around PROFESSOR MORSE AND TUB TELEORAPII. 17 mc, and I half imagine I see Child and Flowers and all the rest filing up the nar- row stairway thankful for the little Sander- son has for them. I know they are all scat- tered, that the thundering j)ress whose clangor was as music to my youthful cars is stilled forever, and tliat IVie Harbin- ger's precarious existence is ended. Still, I remember it kindly, for with its life are associated some of the pleasantest episodes in mine. And Sanderson ! In the grand cavalcade of life insuratice canvassers ho has taken a prominent place. Writing me recently he said : " At present I am work- ing and talking that mankind in general may achieve for itself a grand beneficent destiny, by providing for its widows and or{)hans." Professor Morse and the Telef/rajih. SAMUEL F. D. MORSE. In the year iSii, Benjamin West, the Pres- ident of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, and then past seventy years of age, was en- joying the noontide splendor of his fame as the great historical painter of England. Dur- ing his presidency the Academy had a high reputation, for he was an eminent instructor, and young men from many lands went to it to learti wisdom in Art. On a bright autumnal morning in the year just mentioned. West's beloved American friend, Washington AUston, entered the re- ception-room of the venerable painter, and presented to him a slender, handsome young man, whose honest expression of countenance, rich brown hair, dark magnetic eyes and cour- tesy of manner, made a most favorable im- pression upon the president. This young man was Samuel Fixley Breese Morse. He was then little more than nineteen years of age, and a recent graduate of Yale College. He was the eldest son of Rev. Jedediah Morse, an eminent New England divine and geographer. Rev, Samuel Finley, 18 ZIGIiryjSG FLASHES. D.D., the second president of the College of New Jersey at Princeton, was his maternal great-grandfather, from whom he inherited the first portion of his name. Breese was the maiden name of his mother. At a very early age young A Torse showed tokens of taste and genius for art. At fifteen he made his first composition. It was a good picture, in water colors, of a room in his fa- ther's house, with the family — his parents, himself and two brothers — around a table. That pleasing picture hangs in his late home in New York, by the side of his last painting. From that period he desired to become a pro- fessional artist, and that desire haunted him all through his collegiate life. In February, 1811, when he was nearly nineteen years of age, he painted a picture (now in the office of the Alayor of Charlestown, Mass.) called "The Landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth," ■which, with a landscape painted at about the same time, decided his father, by the advice of Stuart and Allston, to permit him to visit Europe with the latter artist. He bore to England letters to West, also to Copley, then old and feeble. From both he received the kindest attention and encouragement. Morse made a carefully-finished drawing from a small cast of the Fai-nese Hercules, as a test of his fitness for a place as a stu- dent in the Royal Academy. With this he went to \\''est, who examined the drawing carefully, and handed it back saying, " Very well, sir, very well ; go on and finish it." "ItiV finished," said the expectant student. " O, no," said the president. " Eook here, and here, and here," pointing out many unfin- islied places which had escaped the undisci- plined eye of the young artist. Morse quickly observed the defects, spent a week in furtlier perfecting his drawing, and then took it to West, with confidence that it was above criti- cism. The president bestowed more praise than before, and with a pleasant smile hand- ed it back to Morse, saying, " Very well in- deed, sir ; go on and finish it." — " Is it not finished?" inquired the almost discouraged student. "See," said West, "you have not marked that nmscle, nor the articulation of the finger-joints." Three days more were spent upon the drr.wing, when it was taken back to the imjjlacable critic. " Very clever indeed," said West, " very clever ; now go on and finish it." — " I cannot finish it," Morse replied, when the old man, i)atting him on the shoulder, said, "Well, well, I've tried you long enough. Now, sir, you've learned more by this drawing than you would have accomplished in double the time by a dozen half-finished beginnings. It is not 7i2i7nerous drawings, but the character of one, which makes the thorougli draughtsman. Finish one picture, sir, and you are a l"iainter." Morse heeded the sound advice. He studied with Allston and observed his pro- cesses ; and from the lips of West he heard the most salutary maxims. Encouraged by both, as well as by the veteran Copley, he began to paint a large picture for exhibition, in the Royal Academy, choosing for his sub- ject "The Dying Hercules." Following the practice of Allston (who was then painting his celebrated picture of " The Dead Man restored to Life by touching the Bones of Elijah"), he modeled his figure in clay, as the best of the old painters did. It was his first attempt in the sculptor's art and was successful. A ciist was made in plaster of Paris and taken to West, who was delighted. He made many exclamations of surprise and satisfaction ; and calling to him his son Ra- phael, he pointed to the figure and said : " Look there, sir, I have always told you that any painter can make a sculptor." This model contended for the prize of a gold medal offered by the Society of Arts for the best original cast of a single figure, and won it. In the large room of the Adel- phi, in the presence of British nobility, foreign ambassadors and distinguished strangers, the duke of Norfolk publicly presented the med- al to Morse, on the 13th of May, 1813. At the same time his colossal painting, made from this model, then on exhibition in the Royal Academy, was receiving unbounded praise from the critics, who placed "The Dying Hercules" among the first twelve pic- tures in a collection of almost two thousand. So began, upon a firm foundation, the real art-life of this New England student. Encouraged by this success, Morse deter- mined to contend for the highest premium offered by the Royal Academy for the best historical composition, the decision to be made late in 1815. For that purpose he pro- duced his "Judgment of Jupiter," injuly of that year. West assured him that it would take the prize, but Morse was unable to com- ply with the rules of the Academy, which re, cjuircd the victor to receive the medal and money in person. His father had sum- moned him home, and filial love was stronger than the persuasions of ambition. West and Fuseli both urged the Academy to make an exception in his case, but it could not be ^ done, and the young i)ainter had to be con- tented with the assurance of the President PROFESSOR MORSE AND THE TELEGRAPH. 19 afterwards, that he would certainly have won the prize (a gold medal and $250 in gold) had he remained. West was always specially kind to those who came from the land of his birth. Morse was such a favorite with him, that while others were excluded from his painting-room at certain times, he was always admitted. W^est was then painting his great picture of " Christ Rejected." One day, after carefully exam- ining Morse's hands, and observing their beauty and perfection, he said, " Let me tie you with this cord and take that place while I paint in the hands of the Saviour." It was done, and when he released the young artist, West said to him, " You may now say, if you please, that you had a hand in this picture." Fuseli, Northcote, Turner, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Flaxman, and other eminent artists ; and Coleridge, Wordsworth, Rogers, Crabbe, and other distinguished literary men, became fond of young Morse, for with an uncommonly quick intellect he united all the graces of pleasant manners and great warmth and kindliness of heart, which charmed the colder Englishmen. And when in August, 1815, he packed his fine picture, "The Judg- ment of Jupiter," and others, and sailed for his native land, he bore with him the cordial good wishes of some of the best men in Eng- land. When Morse reached Boston, he found that his fame had gone before him, and the best society of that city welcomed him. Cards of invitation to dinner and evening parties were almost daily sent to him. He was only in the twenty-fourth year of his age, and was already famous and bore the seal of highest commendation from the President of the Royal Academy. With such prestige he set up his easel with high hopes and the fairest promises for the future which were doomed to speedy decay and disappointment. The taste of his countrymen had not risen to the appreciation of historical pictures. His fine original compositions, and his excellent copies of those of others (among them one from Tintoretto's marvelous picture of " The Miracle of the Slain"), which hung upon the walls of his studio in Boston, excited the ad- miration of cultivated people ; but not an order was given for a picture, nor even an in- quiry ccncerning the prices of those on view. Disappointed, but not disheartened, Mr. Morse left Boston, almost penniless, and in Concord, N. H., commenced the business of a portrait painter, in which he found constant employment at $15 a subject, cabinet size. There he became acquainted with a Southern gentleman, who assured him that he might find continual employment in the South at four-fold higher ])rlces for his labor. He ap- pealed to his uncle, Dr. Finley of Charleston, for advice, who cordially invited him to come as his visitor and make a trial. He went, leaving behind in Concord a young maiden to whom he was affianced, promising to re- turn and marry her when better fortune should reward his labors. That better for- tune soon appeared. Orders for portraits came in so thickly (one hundred and fifty, at $60 each) that he painted four a week during the winter and spring. In the early sum- mer time of 1818, he returned to New Eng- land with $3,000 in his pocket, and on the 6th of October following his friends read this notice in the N'c'w Hampshire Patriot, published at Concord : — "Married, in this town, by Rev. Dr. McFarland, Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse (the celebrated j^ainter) to Miss Lucretia Walker, daughter of Charles Walker, Esq." Four successive winters Mr. Morse painted in Charleston, and then settled his little family with his parents, in a quiet home in New Haven, and again proceeded to try his fortune as an historical painter, by the production of an exhibition picture of the House of Rep- resentatives at the National Capital. It was an excellent work of art, but as a business speculation it was disastrous, sinking several hundred dollars of the artist's money and wasting nearly eighteen months of precious time. No American had taste enough to buy it, and it was finally sold to a gentleman from England. Morse now sought employment in the rap- idly-growing commercial city of New York. Through the influence of Mr. Isaac Lawrence he obtained the commission, from the corpo- rate authorities of that city, to paint a full- length portrait of Lafayette, then in this coun- try. He had just completed his study from life, in Washington city, in February, 1S25, when a black shadow was suddenly cast across his hitherto sunny life-path. A letter told him of the death of his wife. There is a popular saying that "misfortunes seldom come single." The popular belief in the saying was justified in Mr. Morse's case, for in the space of a little more than a year death deprived him of his wife and his father and mother. Thenceforward his children and art absorbed his earthly affections, and he sought in a closer intimacy with artists the best consolations of social life. By that intimacy he was soon called upon to be the valiant and efficient champion of his professional brethren in a 20 LIGHTNINO FLASHES. bitter controversy between two associations, in this wise : — The American Academy of Fine Arts, then imder the presidency of Colonel John Trum- bull, was in a languishing state, badly managed and of little use to artists. Indeed, the artists complained of ill usage by the directors, a majority of whom were not of the profession ; and Thomas S. Cummings, a sj^irited young student with Henry Inman, drew up a re- monstrance and a petition for relief. Morse took a great interest in the matter, and called a few of the artists together at his rooms to discuss it. At that meeting he proposed as a remedy for the fatal disease of which the old Academy was dying, the formation of a society of artists for improvement in drawing. This was done in November, 1825, at a meeting held in the rooms of the New York Historical Society, at which the now venerable Asher ]i Durand presided. The new organ- ization was named "The New York Drawing Association." Mr. Morse was chosen to be its ])resident. Its members were immediately claimed to be students of the Academy, and Colonel Trumbull endeavored to compel their allegiance. The artists were aroused, and the subsequent action of the Academy determined them to cut loose from all con- nection with it. At a meeting of the Drawing Association in the following January, Mr. Morse, after a short address, proposed by resolutions the founding of an association of artists, far wider in its scope than the one over which he pre- sided. He foreshadowed in a icw words its character. The resolutions were adopted, and on the i8th of January, 1826, the new association was organized under the name of The National Academy of Design. Mr. Morse was chosen to be its president, and for sixteen successive years he was annually elected to that office. Mr. Durand and Gen- eral Thomas S. Cummings (the latter for forty years the treasurer of the new associa- tion) are the only survivors of the founders of that now flourishing institution. The friends of the old Academy were very wrathful, and assailed the new association with unstinted bitterness, in which personal- ities were indulged. A war of words in the public press was carried on for a long time, v.-hich Mr. Morse, as the champion of the new society, waged with the vigorous and effi- cient weapons of candor, courtesy, and digni- fied, keen and lucid statements and arguments, ■which finally achieved a complete victory. * A record of this controversy, with the newspaper Mr. Morse inaugurated a new era in the history of the fine arts in this country, by calling public attention to their usefulness and necessity, in a series of lectures on the subject before the New York Athenajum, to crowded audiences. These were repeated before the students and academicians of the National Academy of Design. In 1829 Mr. Morse made a second pro- fessional visit to Europe. He was warmly welcomed and duly honored by the Royal Academy in London. West had been dead nine years, and Fuseli was no more ; but he found an admirer in Sir Thomas Lawrence, AVest's successor, and many friends among the younger academicians. During more than three years he made his abode in various continental cities. In Paris he studied in the Louvre, and there he made an exhibition picture of the famous gallery, with beautiful miniature copies of about fifty of the finest works in that collection. It failed as a spec- ulation, and finally went to Hyde Hall, the seat of Mr. George Clarke, on Otsego Lake. In November, 1832, Mr. Morse landed in New York, enriched by his transatlantic ex- perience and full of the promise of attaining to the highest excellence in his profession. Allston, writing to Dunlap in 1834, said: "I rejoice to hear your report of Morse's ad- vance in his art. I know 7vhai is in him, perhaps, better than any one else. If he will only bring out all that is there, he will show powers that many now do not dream of." A higher revelation than art had even given it was now vouchsafed to the mind of Morse through Science, its sister and coadjutor. For several years his thoughts had been busy with that subtle principle, by whatever name it may be called, which seems to pervade the universe, and " spreads undivided, operates unspent." The lectures on electro-magnetism by his intimate friend, J. P'reeman Dana, at the Athenoeum, while he (Morse) was giving his course there on the Fine Arts, had great- ly interested him in the subject, and he learned much in familiar conversations with Mr. Dana. Even at that early day, Dana's spiral volute coil suggested to Morse the electro-magnet used in his recording instru- ments. While on his second visit to Europe, Mr. Morse made himself acquainted with the labors of scientific men in endeavors to corn- articles of the combatants, may be found in that rare and valuable work, Historic Annals of the Na- tional Academy of Design, by Professor Thomas S. Cummings, N. A. PROFESSOR MORSE AND THE TELEGRAPH. 21 municate intelligence between far dis- tant places out of the line of vision by means of electro-magnetism, and he saw an electromagnetic semaphore in operation. He was aware tliat so early as 1649, Strada, a Jesuit priest, had in fable prophesied of an electric tele- graph ; and that for half a century or more, philosophers had been, from time to time, partially succeeding in the dis- covery of the anxiously-looked for re- sult. But no telegraph proper — no instrument for writing at a distance — had yet been invented.* In the ship Sully, in -which Mr. Morse voyaged from Havre to New York in the autumn of 1832, the recent discovery in France of the means for obtaining the electric spark from a magnet Avas a fruitful topic of conver- sation among the cultivated passengers ; and it was during that voyage that a revelation was made to the mind of IMorse, which enabled him to conceive the idea of an electro-magnetic and chemical recording telegraph, substan- tially and essentially as it now exists. Before the Sully had reached New York, he had elaborated his concep- tions in the form of drawings and speci- fications, which he exhibited to his fellow-passengers. This fact, proven by the testimony of those passengers given in a court of justice, fixes the date of the inven- tion of Morse's electro-magnetic recording telegraph at the autumn of 1S32. Circumstances delayed the construction of a complete recording telegraph by Mr. Morse, and the subject slumbered in his mind. During his absence abroad he had been elected to the professorship of the Literature of the Arts of Design in the University of the City of New York, and this field of duty oc- * In 1774, Le Sage constructed an electric sema- phore with twenty-four wiies corresponding to the 24 letters of the alphabet. In 1793, Claude Chappe established an aerial line of electric semaphores. From 17S0 to iSoo, German, Italian, and Spanish philosophers made interesting experiments in this di- rection. In iSiO Schweiger discovered tlie multiplying power of the magnet by an electric coil, and in 1S19 Oersted perfected the discovery of electro-magnetism. Ronalds constructed an electric semaphore, which made signals at a distance of eight miles, in 1S16. In 1S25 Sturgeon invented the electro-magnet. In 1S30 Professor Henry applied Schweiger's coil to Sturgeon's magnet, and wonderfully increased the magnetic force which Morse subsequently used. Arago, Faraday, Ampere, Gauss and Weber, and Steinheil had made many valuable advances towards the great discovery, and Wheatstone very nearly reached it. morse's first nECOKDING TELEGRAnl. cupied his attention for some time. Finally, in November, 1S35, he completed a rude tel- egraphic instriuiKfnt — the first recording ai>- paratus — which is now in the library of his country-seat near Poughkeepsie. It embodied the mechanical principles of those now in use in every quarter of the globe. But his whole plan was not completed until July, 1S37, when, by means of two instruments, he was able to communicate from as well as to a dis- tant point. In Sei)teniber, hundreds of peo- ple saAV it in operation at the University, the larger portion of whom looked upon it as a scientific toy constructed by an unfortunate dreamer. In the following year Mr. Morse's invention was sufficiently perfected to induce him to call the attention of the National Congress to it, and ask their ai:l in the construction of an experimental line between the cities of Washington and Baltimore. Late in the long session of 183S, he appeared before that body with his instrument. Before leaving New York with it he invited a few friends to see it work. The written invitation ran thus, — I copy one now before me : " Professor Morse requests the honor of Thomas S. Cummings, Esq., and family's company ia the Geolo- oo LIGHTNING FLASHES. gical Cabinet of the University, Wasliington Square, to witness the operation of tlie electro- niagnetic tel- egrapli, at a private exhibition of it to a few friends, previous to its leaving the city for Wasliington. "The apparatus will be prcpareel at precisely 12 o'clock, on Wednesday, 24tli instant. The time be- liniitetl, punctuality is specially requested. "Mew Vokk University, June 22, 183S." One of the first messages on that wire was given to Mr. Cummings (yet in his possession) in tliese words : " Attention the Universe — By Kingdoms, riglit wheel — Facetiously." It may be explained by the fact that Mr. Cummings had just received military promotion to the command of a division. It is probably the first message by the recording telegraph now extant, and how prophetic ! Professor Morse found very little encourage- ment at Washington, and he went to Eluropc with the hope of drawing the attention of for- eign governments to the advantages, and se- curing patents for the invention, having al- ready filed a caveat at the patent office of his own country. His mission was a failure. England refused to grand him a patent, and France gave him only a useless brevet d'in- rention, which did not secure for him any special privilege. , So he returned home, dis-- appointed but not discouraged, and waited FAC-SIMILE OF THE FIRST PAGUERREOTYrE OP THE FACE MADE IN AilERICA, patiently four years longer, before he again attempted to interest Congress in his inven- tion. The year before he went to Europe, Pro- fessor Alorse suffered a severe disappoint- ment in the way of his profession. He was an unsuccessful applicant for a commission to paint one of the pictures for the eight panels in the Rotunda of the national Capitol, which a law of Congress had authorized. Morse was greatly disappointed. His ar- tist friends showed their sympathy in the practical way of giving him an order to paint a historical picture, raising funds for the pay- ment for it in shares of $50 each. The first intimation the Professor had of their generous design, was Avhen two of his professional brethren called upon him and gave the order, and at the same time informed him that $3,000 had already been subscribed. " Never have I read or known of such an act of pio- fessional generosity," exclaimed Morse. He agreed to paint for them the picture he had projected for the Government — " The Signing of the First Compact on board the Mayfiow- er " — and addressed himself to the task. But the telegraph soon absorbed his atten- tion, and so won him from painting that he almost abandoned its practice. In 1 84 1 he returned to the subscribers the amount in full, with interest, whieh had been paid to him, and so can- celed the obligation. "Thus," wrote General Cummings, "while the world won a belt of instantaneous com- munication, the subscribers lost the pleasure of his triumph as an artist. The artist was absorbed in the elec- trician." "While Professor Morse was in Paris, in the spring of 1S39, he formed an acquaintance with M. Daguerre, who, in connection with I^I. Niepce, had discovered the method of fixing the image of the camera obscura, which was then creating a great sensation among scientific men. These gentle- men were then considering a propo- sition from the French government to make their discovery public, on condition of their receiving a suitable pension. Professor Morse was anx- ious to sec the ])hotographic restilts before leaving for home, and the American Consul ( Robert _ "Walsh) made arrangements for an interview between the two discoverers. The inventions of each -were shown to the other ; and Daguerre promised to PROFESSOR MORSE AXD THE TELEGRAPH. yr O C3 a. tr AM- send to IMorse a copy of the descriptive pub- lication which he intended to make so soon as the pension should be secured. Da- guerre kept his promise, and Morse was probably the first recipient of the pamphlet in this country. From the drawings it con- tained he constructed the first daguerreotype apparatus made in the United States. From a back window in the New York University Professor Morse obtained a good representation of the tower of the Church of the Messiah, on Broadway, and surrounding buildings, which possesses a historical interest as being the first photograph ever taken in America. It was on a ])late the size of a playing card. He experimented with Pro- fessor J. W. Draper in a studio built upon the roof of the University, and succeeded in taking likenesses from the living hijman face. His subjects were compelled to sit fifteen min- utes in the bright sunlight, with the eyes closed, of course. Professor Draper short- ened the process and was the first to take por- traits with the eyes open. Some of the origi- nal plates so photographed upon by Professor IMorse were presented by him to Vassar Col- lege, of which he was a trustee. On the preceding page will be seen an engraving of part of one of these plates (which originally contained three figures), in which the costumes almost mark the era of its production. Again Professor Morse appeared before Congress widi his telegraph. It was at the session of 1842-3. On the 21st of February, 1S43, the late John P. Kennedy of Maryland moved that a bill in committee, appropriat- ing $30,000 to be expended, under the di- rection of the Secretary of the Treasury, in a series of experiments for testing the merits of the telegraph, should be considered. It met with ridicule from the outset. Cave Johnson of Tennessee moved as an amend- ment, that one-half the sum should be given to a lecturer on Mesmerism, then in Washing- ton, for trying mesmeric experiments under the direction of the Secretary of the Treasury. Mr. Houston thought Millerism ought to be included in the benefits of the appropriation. After the indulgence of much cheap ^\it. 24 LIGHTXIXG FLASHES. C» Cj C3 t-> C5' «3 ca cs CV' tr t=> o c -cs e? C3 O O ^ Mr. S. Mason of Ohio protested against such frivolity as injurious to the character of the House, and asked the chair to rule the amendment out of order. The chair (John White of Kentucky) ruled the amendment in order, because, as he said, " it would require a scientific analysis to determine how far the magnetism of Mesmerism was analogous to that to be employed in telegraphs." His wit was applauded by peals of laughter, when the amendment was voted down and the bill laid aside to be reported. It passed the House on the 23d of February, by the close vote of 89 to 83, and then went to the Senate. The efficient friends of Professor Morse in pro- curing this result were J. P. Kennedy of Maryland, S. Mason of Ohio, David Wallace of Indiana, C. G. Ferris of New York, and Colonel J. B. Aycrigg of New Jersey. The bill met with neither sneers nor op- position in the Senate, but the business of that House went on with discouraging slow- ness. At twilight on the last evening of the session (March 3, 1843) there were 119 bills before it. As it seemed impossible for it to be reached in regular course before the hour of adjournment should arrive, the Professor, who had anxiously watched the tardy move- ments of business all day from the gallery of the Senate chamber, went with a sad heart to his hotel and prepared to leave for New York at an early hour the next morning. "While at breakfast, a servant informed him that a young lady desired to see him in the parlor. There he met Miss Annie Ellsworth, then a young school girl — the daughter of his intimate friend, Hon, Henry L. Ellsworth, the first Commissioner of Patents — who said, as she extended her hand to him : " I have come to congratulate you." *' Upon what?" in(iuired the Professor. " Upon the passage of your bill," she re- plied. " Impossible ! Its fate was sealed at dusk last evening. You must be mistaken." " Not at all," she responded. " Father sent me to tell you that your bill was passed. He remained until the session closed, and yours was the last bill but one acted upon, and it was passed just five minutes before the adjournment ; and I am so glad to be the first one to tell you. Mother says, too, that you must come home with me to break- fast." The invitation was readily accepted, and the joy in the household was unbounded. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth had fully believed in the project, and the former, in his confidence in it and in his warm friend- ship for Prof. Morse, had spent all the clos- ing hours of the session in the Senate cham- ber, doing what he could to help the bill along, and giving it all the influence of his high personal and official position. Grasping the hand of his young friend, the Professor thanked her again and again for bearing him such pleasant tidings, and as- sured her that she should send over the wires the first message, as her reward. The matter was talked over in the family, and Mrs. Ellsworth suggested a message which Prof. Morse referred to the daughter, for her approval ; and this was the one which was subsequently sent. A little more than a year after that time, the line between W'ashington and Baltimore was completed. Prof Alorse was in the former city, and Mr. Alfred Vail, his assistant, in the latter ; the first in the chamber of the Supreme Court, the last in the Mount Clare depot, when the circuit being perfect, Prof. Morse sent to Miss Ellsworth for her mes- sage, and it came. "What hath God wrought!" It was sent in triplicate in the dot-and-line language of the instrument to Baltimore, and was the first message ever transmitted by a reeording telegraph. A fac-simile of that first message, with Professor Morse's indorsement, is here given. The story of this first message has been often told with many exaggerations. It has roamed about Europe with various romantic material attached to it, originating mainly in tlie Frencjh imagination, and has started up anew from time to time in our own country under fresh forms, but the above story iS simply and literally true. An inventor in despair receives the news of his imexpected success from his friend's daughter, and he makes her a promise which he keeps, and 1. Entkee. 2. i'l.ArKD— " That familiar sound.' A Deep, Dire, Dreadful Tragedy, . — -rT-TTillll 3. Ha! Ha! I hope ue'll kusu meI" 4. Rosued! In Four Acts. PROFESSOR AfORSE AXD THE TELEGRAPH. 25 / thus links her name with his o\\ti, and with an invention which becomes one of the con- troUing instruments of civiUzation for ail time. The first public messages sent were a no- tice to Silas Wright, in Washington, of his nomination for the office of Vice-President of the United States by the Democratic Con- vention, then (May, 1S44) in session in Bal- timore, and his response declining it. Hon. Hendrick B. Wright, in a letter to the author of this sketch, says : " As the presiding officer of the body, I read the despatch ; but so in- credulous were the members as to the au- thority of the evidence before them, that the Convention adjourned over to the following day, to await the report of a committee sent over to \\^ashington to get reliable informa- tion upon the subject." Such were the circumstances attending the birth of the Electro-Magnetic Recording Telegraph. The mgenuity of man had fashion- ed a body for it ; but there it lay, with all its perfections undreamed of, excepting by a few prophetic philosophers, — its mighty pow- ers all unknown, — almost as lifeless and use- less as a rock in the wilderness, until Morse, divinely inspired, as he always believed, en- dowed it with intelligence. The poet said concerning the discoveries of Newton, which dispelled so much of the darkness which hung around the truths of science, "God said, Let Newton live, and all was Light." With equal truth may Morse be ranked among the creative agencies of God upon the earth. The infant of his conception, so ridiculed and distrusted, immediately gave signs of its divinity. The doubters were soon readv to bring garlanded bulls to sacrifice to it as a god ; and a prophet wrote : "What more, presumptuous mortals, will you dare? See Franklin seize the Clouds, their bolts to bury; The Sun assigns his pencil to Daguerre, And Morse the lightning makes his secretary !" He Stood before the world as the peer of Kings and Emperors, for the application of his thought to exquisite mechanism revolu- tionized the world. And kings and emperors soon delighted to pay homage to his genius by substantial tokens. -i _..-3 o The Sultan of Turkey was the first mon- arch who recognized Professor Morse as a public benefactor, by bestowing upon Jiim the decoration of the Nishan Jftichar, or Or- der cf Glory. That was in 1848, the same year when his Alma Mater conferred upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. The Kings of Prussia and WUrtemberg and the Emperor of Austria each gave him a Gold Medal of Scientific Merit, that of the first named being set in a massive gold snuff- box. In 1856, the Emperor of the French bestowed upon him the Cross of a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor. The next year the Cross of K?ti_i:;hi Commander of the First Class in the Order of the Dannebroge was presented to him by the King of Denmark, and in 1858 the Queen of Spain gave him the Cross of the Knight Commander (de nu- mero) of the Order of Isabella the Catholic. The King of Italy gave him the Cross of the Order of SS. Maurice and Lazarus, and the Sovereign of Portugal presented him with the Cross of the Order of the Tower and Sword. In 1858, a special congress was called by the Emperor of the French to devise a suit- able testimonial of the nation to Professor Morse. Representatives from ten sovereign- ties convened at Paris under the i)residency of Count Walewski, then the French Minister for Foreign Affairs, and by a unanimous vote they gave, in the aggregate, four him- dred thousand francs ($80,000) as "an hon- orary gratuity to Professor Morse," a "col- iective act, to demonstrate the sentiments of public gratitude justly excited by his inven- tion." The States which participated in this testimonial were P'rance, Austria, Russia, Belgium, Holland, Sweden, Piedmont, the Holy See, Tuscany and Turkey. Like all useful inventions, Morse's re- cording telegraph found competitors for hon- ors and emoluments. Its own progress in securing public confidence was at first slow. In 1846 House's letter-printing telegraph was brought out, and in 1849 Bain introduced electro-chemical telegraphy. Rival lines were established. Costly litigations ensued, which promised, at one time, to demand more money than the income from tlie inven- 26 LIGHTNING FLASHES. £3 C^ 4y -r- o o e o o -IJ^ tion. Finally, in 1S51, the rival lines were consolidated, when different companies were formed to operate under the same patent. Since then other consolidations have taken place, and the Western Union Telegraph Company now controls a greater portion of the business in this country. According to a statement made by its able electrician, George B. Prescott, in January, 1S71, that company was then operating 56,000 miles of line, 125,000 miles of wire, 4,600 offices, and was transmitting over 10,000,000 messages annually. The remaining companies were then operating about 10,000 miles of line. At about the same time there were in round numbers 175,000 miles of line and 475,000 miles of wire in operation in Great Britain, Ireland, and on the European continent. At the same time also there were over thirty- six thousand miles of submarine lines laid imder the waters of the Atlantic and German Oceans; the Baltic, North Mediterranean, Arabian, China, Japan and Red Seas ; the Persian Gulf ; the Bay of Biscay ; the Straits of Gibraltar and Malacca, and the Gulfs of Mexico and the St. Lawrence, by which the civilized world is put into close mental com- munication. Of marine telegraphy. Professor Morse was the originator. So early as 1842, he laid the first marine cable across the harbor of New York, which achievement won for him the gold medal of the American Institute ; and in a letter to John C. Spencer, then Sec- retary of the Treasury, in August, 1843, con- cerning electro-magnetism and its powers, h§ MOKSS 5 RESIDENCE AT LOCUST GKOVE. wrote : " The practical inference from this law is, that a telegraphic communication on the electro-magnetic plan may with certainty be established acrosj the Atlantic Ocean. Startling as this may now seem, I am confi- dent the time will come when this project will be realized." That prophecy was ful- filled in 1858, when Professor Morse had yet fourteen years of life before him, and the most wonderful achievements of his marvel- ous invention were yet unrevealed. Among these was the long-worked-for result, accom- plished only a itw weeks before his death, namely, the iransmission of messages both 7vays over the same wire at the savie instant. This is tlie last great triumph of electro-mag- netic telegraphy. Very soon the almost sentient electro-mag- netic nerve will convey instant intelligence through every ocean to every continent of the globe. May we not liken that nerve, throbbing with its mysterious essence, to the voice of the angel in the Apocalypse, who stood with one foot upon the land and the other upon the sea and proclaimed that time should be no longer ? Professor Morse enjoyed the fiiU fruition of his great discovery, and received during his life the honors and emoluments which were justly his due. In addition to the attentions paid to him by governments, he was made the recipient of ])ublic honorary bancjuets in London, Paris, and New York. At the latter, given at the close of 1868, the Chief Justice of the United States presided, and many of the dignitaries of the republic and the Brit- ish minister at Washington Avere in attend- ance. In 187 1 a statue of Professor Morse was erected in Central Park, New York, at the expense of the telegraph oj^erators of the country. It was unveiled on the loth of June with the most imposing ceremonies, in which leading men of the nation participated. There were delegates from every State in the Union, and from tlie British i)rovinces. In the evening a public reception was given to the venerable inventor at the Academy of Music, at which Hon. William Orton, Presi- dent of the Western Union Telegraph Com- pany, presided, assisted by scores of the PROFESSOR MORSE AND THE TELEGRAPH. 27 ^ leading public men of the nation as vice- presidents. Impressive speeches were ut- tered. The last scene was most impressive of all. It was announced that the telegraphic instrument before the audience was then in connection Avith every other one of the 10,000 instruments in America, when Miss Cornell, a young telegraphic operator, touched its key and sent this message to all : " Greeting and Thanks to the Tele- graph Fraternity throughout the World. Glory to God in the Highest, on Earth Peace, Good-wili. to Men." Then the venerable inventor was conducted to the instrument, touched the key, and the sounder struck " S. F. B. Morse." A storm of enthu- siasm swept through the house for some mo- ments, as the audience arose, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, and old men and young men alike cheering as with one voice. Professor Morse appeared in public for the last time on the 22d of February, 1872, when he unveiled the statue of Franklin erected in Printing House Square, in New York. After that his health rapidly declined, and on Tues- day, the 2d of April, 1872, his spirit passed out peacefully from its earthly tabernacle to the bosom of God. On the 5 th his remains were carried in a casket to the Madison Square Presbyterian Church, when the glo- rious Anthem, " I heard a voice from Heav- en," was sung, a funeral discourse was pro- nounced by Rev. William Adams, D.D., and a concluding prayer by Rev. B. F. Wheeler, pastor of the church at Poughkeepsie, of Avhich the deceased was a member. Then the remains were taken to Greenwood Ceme- tery. Just before his death, Professor Morse's physicians, uncertain as to the exact nature of his disease, raised him up and sounded his chest with finger tappings. The Profess- or roused from the stupor in which he had t: f been lying, when one of the physicians said, " This is the way we telegraph." The dying man comprehended the point, and replied, "Very good — very good." These were his last words. Professor Morse was twice married. His first wife, as we have seen, died in 1825. His second wife (still living) was Sarah Elizabeth Griswold, a grand-daughter of the late Arthur Breese, of Utica, and Catharine Livingston, of Poughkeepsie, to whom he was married in the summer of 1848. The Professor's private life was one of al- most unalloyed happiness. After his last marriage, his summer home was on the banks of the Hudson just below Poughkeepsie, call- ed " Locust Grove," and his winter residence was in New York City. His presence was always sunshine to his family, and his influ- ence in society was benign. He was, in the highest sense of the term, a Christian gentle- man, a faithful disciple of the Redeemer, and a fine exemplar of dutiful obedience to every law in all the relations of life, domestic and social. The invention of Professor Morse is a gift to mankind of immeasurable value. It has already widened the range of human thought and action, and given to literature a truer catholicity and humanity, whilst more than any other agency it is binding the nations of the earth in a brotherhood which seems like the herald of the millennial era. Its silent forces are working with awful majesty in the realm of mind, reducing the ideals of the old mythologies to practical and beneficent re- sults. Has inspiration ceased ? Have revelations come to an end ? AVas that first message a chance communication, or a direct inspi- ration of the Almighty ? " ^VHAT hath God wrought ! " 28 LIGUryiXG FLASHES. D, C, Shaiv {Oiiey Gagin), Mr. Shaw was born in Bath, Mc, and first com- menced his telegraphic career in Brunswick, in that State, 'neath the classic shades of old Bowdoiu, in whose halls lie had studied and " burned the mid- night oil." But the new and wonderful art of tel- egraphy fascinated him, and thus the fraternity added one more cultured mind to their list. His ability soon secured his promotion to that " training school" of the Eastern division, South Berwick Junction, Me., an isolated spot, but an important junction of two great roads, and principal testing station between Boston and Portland. Among the graduates of this office may be mentioned : Labonte, McKay, " Heme" Grant, Goodwin (afterward Supt. of tiie A. & P. at Buffalo), and Henderson, chief op- erator in the Boston oflice. Portland soon claimed Mr. Shaw's services, and here he worked long and faithfully, finally taking the position of chief oper- ator, which he still liokls. In the spring and sum- mer of 1871 he accepted the managership of Roch- ester, N. Y., ofTice on the A. & P. Company's lines. He filled this position abl}', the receipts of the office being largely increased during his stay; but ineffi- cient fixcilities and co-operation in the larger offices, disheartened him, and he returned to Portland, re- suming his old position, which he has held ever since, excepting a transfer which placed him at Duxburj'-, Mass., on the French cable wires during the Franco-Prussian war. Here the work was very heavy, Mr. Shaw alternating on the eight-hour trick with Messrs. Kettles and Bed win. Besides his accomplishments as a telegrapher, Mr. Shaw possesses rare natural abilities as an artist. His crayon portraits are wonderful for their truth- fulness of expression. The finish of his work can not j'ct of course be compared Avith a Rouse or a Strain, but bids fair, with practice, to approach these masters in a wonderful degree. It would be iiscless to dwell upon his literary abilities ; the many articles from the genial pen of " Oncy Gagin " speak for themselves. His abilities telegraphically are in every respect first-class, but possessing that humility peculiar to able minds, which so well cor- responds with the gentleness often shown in the powerful and valiant soldier, he does not disdain to lend a helping hand to mediocrity, and has thus, by his native goodness of heart and genial disposi- tion, won hosts of warm friends, who feel that his thoughtful, obliging manners have done much toward lightening their tasks, and making faithful performance of duty a homage that he has justly earned, and which he fully receives. Tlie TelefjrapU DispatcJt, A STORY OF TELEGRAPHY IN THE EARLY DAYS. CHAPTER I . The mystic wire is in llic air. It winds from shore to shore, By dark Missouri's turbid tide. By deep Niajj^aru's roar. Bear alone: the liii;htnina; song, Down the Ohio ; A tliousand miles are already up, And thousands more to "xo. It was late one Satunlay evening in De- cember, 1847, tliat after finisliing some en- grossing correspondence, I arose with the intention of immediately proceeding to my quiet lodgings in Chestnut Street, there to take the welcome rest that ushers in the day of sacred repose. It had been a busy day and a toilsome one. I had been alone in care of the two registers connecting with Balti- more and New York, the day cold and rainy, and both lines workint? with a fitful uncer- tainty, corresponding well with the weather. Slowly and tediously had the new wonder performed her office. The perfection to which telegraphic structures have since ar- rived was then unknown. It was the nurs- ing of a rickety child, the guiding of a keel- less craft. Yet the constant suspicion of my own ignorance had made me patient. Hour after hour I repeated and repeated — aye, to the seventh time — each dispatch to my pa- tient associate at the other terminus. I sighed and longed for dinner, but sighed in vain. A cup of coffee from a neighboring restaurant gave new patience to my troubled spirit. Yet nine o'clock found me with my files all clear and letters all written, a wearied mar- tyr to a new and unpromising pursuit. Before rising from the hard stool on which I had performed my martyrdom (we had no stuffed chairs in those days), I moralized a moment. The revolutions I had innocently caused on Wall Street gave me no concern. Bull Bridges had been a steady attendant at the pine railing which kept the inquisitive ])ublic from overflowing me ; and the size of his quid and the magnitude of his "stream" indicated the agitation of the "fancies." Busy Sylvester and grim Riddle, too, Avere anxious and inquiring. Yet "Wall Street af- fairs had no lodgement in my anxieties, and they had come and gone, as had the ill-tem- pered winds without, free from sympathy with me. Otherwise, however, the day had been eventful. Joy and sorrow had found in me an interested medium. I had seen some of the few phases of eventful life just beginning to be intrusted to the new messenger which the kind-hearted and ingenious student of Poughkeepsie had given to his country. It had identified me with my race. I was a necessity. Love had opened lier heart to me, and in my faithful hands had her secret been held. Agony had forced me to a partnership. Jealousy had made me hear the imeasy grit- ting of her teeth. Joy had rung his merry laugh in my ears, and sorrow had wet [my hands Avith tears that met my own. How various had been my mission ! IIow many vibrating chords had been sounded that day by my instrumentality ! I had learned a lesson of human sorrow wliich suc- ceeding years have only Avidened and deej)- ened. I learned to prepaie my own heart for the storms of life and the anguish of the years to come. It was well. Some of these have already come. There are others still to follow. 'Tis pleasant to know that amid life's sunshine as in its darkness, Avhen the stars are cloudless as when they liave one by one hid behind the iratherinar crloom of clouds, that the Great Pilot is at the helui, and the war-ship of life, careening i>pon a thousand waves, is still steady on her course, safe in His hands. 80 LIGUTNING FLASHES. And now for home. My little room in the third story -with its modest farniture, but clean white bed linen, and checi-ful fire, held out new charms to me. Already I was with- in its clean, warm blankets, thankful for its sweet and quiet repose, and dreaniing of the coming day, when man and beast were alike to enjoy the blessedness of the week's grand lioliday. Before turning off the gas, however, I Avent to the messenger's table, to see whether that worthy had performed his duties, and properly delivered his dispatches. One only remained on his table ; and, supposing it to have been one not deliverable at so late an hour, I was on the point of leaving, when a vague suspi- cion of its import crossed my memory, and I returned to its examination. Late in the afternoon, a little after sunset, I had received from Wilmington, Delaware, a brief dispatch to " James Mornington, Ken- sington," which had excited my keen interest. Its language was terse, yet touching. It ut- tered a name dear to me. I had asked its quick delivery. The unfaithful hound had gone home, chary of the rain. Here it lay midelivered. I opened it. It read as fol- lows : " Poor Mary will die to-night ; she asks to see you. Come quick. KEiiEccA Warrington." It was now half-past nine. The cars left at eleven. By great activity I could deliver it in time to secure its purpose. With an in- dignant malediction of the lazy subordinate, and an indefinite resolution to commence the week by an act of summary decapitation, I placed the missive securely in the breast- pocket of my coat, buttoned myself to the throat, tucked up my nether garments, and sallied out into the storm. CHAPTER II. " Tlicrc is, indeed, one crownino; joy, A pleasure that eau never cloy, The bliss of doinjr good ; And to it a reward is given, Most prceious in the siglit of heaven, The tear of gratitude." I turn aside from this relation to have a talk with messengers. I have become, con amore, a messenger boy. They are, there- fore, my associates. The occasion is a suit- able one. We must see if we cannot realize our position. What part do we bear in the great system of communication now develop- ing itself? Here, for example, I carry a message from the house of death, dictated by the absorbing circumstance of the decline of an afiectionatc sister, longing to see her only brother before her trembling spirit says farewell to earth. The telegraph to her is the minister of heaven. But for it, no message could have reached her brother's home, and fresh and bitter tears would have wet the pillow of death. But its power has become known to her ; with trem- bling hope it is carried to the office ; a kind, attentive operator received and sent it tome; it came in good season to secure to that dying girl her heart's desire. Ah ! boys, there is not one of you but would have run like a mercury to deliver it. And yet here am I doing what a mean exception to the corps should have done hours before ! Ilis name is known to me. I will not give it. But in some dark hour, if he yet lives, he will sigh for comfort he cannot procure. Boj's, one word more ! Electricity is very fast — very. It compasses the earth in a sec- ond. But it needs you at the end. It cannot do without you. You are, in many import- ant respects, the life, the energy, the soul of the system. The postboy is a mere piece of baggage compared to you. Remember that in your hands is committed an important trust. Day by day, human happiness and commercial success depend on your prompt- ness and integrity. You are watched closely. No boy has a surer passport to a i)rosperous and honorable manhood than the faithful tel- egraph messenger boy. A few years ago I saw one such. Quiet, but ever at hi* post, he seemed to compre- hend that on him devolved an important duty. His neat, clean attire showed that he was well-bred and cared for ; while his re- spectful address and love of truth revealed 777^ TELEGRAPH DISPATCH. 31 the impress of the heart and counsel of a pious mother. All knew the telegraph boy, and many an encouraging Avord was spoken to him by the merchants, us he delivered to them their telegrams from his dispatch-book, unsoiled by iinger-mark or rain, and took their receipts. Years have passed since then. He is still young. Yet his course lias been onward and upward. Early in the long summer mornings, he used to rise with the day, put on the local batte- ry, and, while all else were asleep, be strug- gling to learn how to operate. This he did for some time unknown. With genuine mod- esty he struggled alone. He succeeded, and became a beautiful writer. The manager of the office was taken suddenly ill, but his mes- senger boy conducted his business for him until restored. He distinguished himself by an indefatigable industry in the delivery of dispatches. No rain or storm could stop him. These only quickened his gait. He is now manager of a respectable office, with an ex- cellent salary, and no one has better prospects of promotion than he. The two Durfees were examples ; both, alas ! now passed awa}-, but bearinir with them the cherished remembrance of all who knew them. In the prosecution of my duties as superin- tendent, I loved to meet the messengers. The shake of their young hands was ever gladsome to me. I saw in them the embryo managers of our offices. I liked to cheer them in the prosecution of their arduous duties, and as, one by one, they were promoted to more re- munerative, although not more important sta- tions, I seemed to enjoy their success with more than a personal pleasure. Their own hopes and mine united. But for the reprobate who sent me out in that dreary rain, already weary with the multitudinous duties of the day, I have, even now, a most punishing recollection. Well, I ought to forgive him for the experi- ence of which he was the cause. My contact with sorrow had been slight. I was young, and my day had, so far, been one of sunshine and delight. I was to be initiated into the shadows of life, to feel and witness its gloom. Many are the tears these cheeks Iiave borne since then. I can almost excuse the lazy hound who, to save himself from a tedious walk, had clieated a dying girl of the solace of a brother's affection, but who had, unwit- tingl}-, lifted up one fold of the curtain which hid me from the realities of life. CHAPTER III. " Ob, death, what art thou !— A husbandman that reap- ctli alwajs, Out of season as in season, -with the sickle in his hand." The communication of sorrowful tidincrs is in itself a sorrowful task. To a sensitive mind it produces all the agitation of personal grief. The tear is ready to mingle with the tear expected. The heart throbs with a pain- ful consciousness of the possession of a secret, which, discovered, must agonize; which the possessor would gladly have die with him ; but which he must convey with delicate sym- pathy lest another, less moved by sympathy, might, with indelicate haste, send, like an arrow doubly barbed, to the bosom it most concerns. So, as through the storm I wended my way to a home I might render desolate, before me ever appeared the image of a suffering girl, moaning, in her agony, for her distant broth- er. Long before I reached my destination, I had marked, in imagination, all her features, pencilled her soi-rowful eye, and enshrined her in my heart as a sister, whose pillow I should have rejoiced to smooth, and whose ebbing spirit I should have loved to solace with the hopes of a better land than this. A single light illumined a room of the house where Mornington resided, which seemed, from its locality and appearance, to be occupied by one in the middle walks of life. No plate on the door indicated the oc- cupant, but the number, G4, painted in jilain figures over it, and lighted by a lamp near by, satisfied me that I had reached the place. Knocking gently at the door, it was opened by an elderly lady, who, with a politeness I 33 LIGUTNING FLASHES. scarcely expocteil, invited me to walk in and await her son's return. "This is his birthday," slie said, "and he and part of the family liave gone to a little merry-making near by, Avhencc I expect them every moment. Tiiey promised to return by ten, and it is now a few minutes beyond." "It is somewhat important I should see liim soon," I replied; "I have a message from his sister, to which I would be glad to carry a reply." " From my daughter jNIary ? " " I believe it must be from her." " From Wilmington ? " " Yes, I received it from there this even- ing. " You did not, then, come from Wilming- ton ? I was in hopes you might have seen my daughter, and brought us news of her health. l*oor child ; we sent her there to see if chanire of scene would restore her to health again. IJut — she is a tender plant, and need- ed a mother's care. But her brother proposed the change, and to her his wish is her guide." " The dis])atch I bear would indicate her ill health, and, fearing that it might be im- portant to be delivered soon, I came thus late to deliver it." I said this in a tone of voice I intended should be easy and unagitated ; yet, having absorbed my mind with the sul)ject of it, my speech was tremulous, and I saw at once that the })erceptions of a motiier's heart were aroused. The knitting-kneedle dropped from her hand, and, with a hurried, anxious voice, she replied — " Has anything happened, sir — is my daugh- ter worse ? You seem to I'cgard your errand here as urcjent. Something must be wrong! What keeps my son ? lie seldom disa})points me; I am aged and infirm, and could not join them in their gathering." Then, lowering her head, she said, sorrowfully, " My i)Oor Mary, I fear thou wilt soon leave us." And I saw the tears coursing each other down her aged cheeks, as, shaking her head soitow- fuUy, she went to the window to see if there were indications of her son's return. .There was no time to lose. I might have handed my message to that aged mother; I rose twice to do so. Had I done so, I would have hurried from the house. I know, and none knows more deei)ly, the power of a mother's love ; the clinging, living grasp with which it encompasses her children, and I dared not give her the chalice, which would surely induce the ebullitions of a grief I could not bear; and yet I must accomplish my er- rand. That dying girl seemed following me with tears and low expostulating entreaties to grant her request. Fail I must not, and I was just about to projiose to find the object of my search amid his festivities, when a rapid sound of footsteps at the door, and the ring of merry voices, assured me of his re- turn. "Ah," thought I, "what a mission is mine!" I began to hate my avocation. I felt myself to be a miserable raven coming to croak a note of woe, where all was happi- ness, and hilarity, and hope. The party who thus came in upon us were, first, a young, gentlemanly-looking man of thirty, Avith a gentle, benignant countenance, deeply expressive of inward sensitiveness and delicacy; a little lady of twenty-five, with a bright, cheerful countenance — the token of a trusting and open heart Avithin — whose merry voice and evident sweetness of disposition re- called to mind the pretty Spanish song, which we must give you, kind reader, if only to show how strangely thoughts mix themselves up in this sensitive heart of ours, as well as to break up, in some degree, the heaviness of our story, but which, in the object before us, seemed to have so true an application : " In a little precious diamond, What splendor meets the eyes! In a little lump of suujar. How much of sweetness lies! So, in a little woman. Love urows and multiplies; You recollect, tlie proverb says— ' A word unto the wise.' " A pepper-corn is very small, But seasons every dinner More than all other condiments. Although 'tis sprinkled thinner. Just so alittle woman is, If love will let you win her; Tlicj-e's not a joy in all the world You would not iiud within her. THE TELEGRAPn DISPATCH. 33 " And, as within the little rose, You'll find the richest dyes, And in a liitle irrain of gold Much price and value lies; As from a little balsam Much odor does arise, So, in a little woman, There's a taste of paradise. " The skylark and the nightingale. Though smiiU and light of wing, Yet warhle sweeter in the grove Than all the birds that sing. And so a little woman, Though a very little thing, Is sweeter than all other fiweet*, Even Howers that bloom in spring." The third was a "brifxht little crirl of five summers, a merry, prattling child, with little roiand cheeks and chin, who, with her hands full of confections, was struggling between the sleepiness of so late an hour and the hil- arity of the festive occasion from which she had returned. It was an interesting Fcene to see the beautiful tokens of affection pass be- tween them and the aged lady, as she kissed, with true maternal warmth, her children and little granddaughter, wishing her boy many a returning birthday and a long and happy union with his companion — tokens which, in their delicacy and touching affectionateness, I fear are too rapidly passing aAvay from our households. This greeting, however, was soon terminated by the conscious presence of a stranfjer. It was in vain to endeavor to prepare this loving circle for the message of death. I es- sayed to do it. Kind words were welling from my heart, but they refused arrangement in the preface work of consolation. I handed ray message, took my hat, hoping to escape the burst of emotion which I felt was to fol- low, when I was paralyzed by a moan so deep and agonized that threescore years and ten shall pass in fruitless effort to efface it from ray memory. In a moment that little group were crowded together in a most touching attitude of mortal grief. The aged mother, with her trembling hands clasped, her eyes closed, and her furrowed features livid, as if in death, could only exclaim, in agonized ac- cents, " My poor child ! " and sank back mo- tionless upon her chair. It was thus I left them unnoticed. I doubt- ed not Mr. Mornington would make immedi- ate preparation to leave by the train at eleven P. M., and my mind was relieved of a load of anxiety. Such duties, since then, have, alas ! been too frequent to affect me thus deeply; but the performance of this was accompanied by even deeper anxiety than the language of my narrative might seem to indicate. I was like a sailor boy looking with awe on the bil- lows he sees for the first time, but which, afterward, he rides without the thought of their magnitude or danger. During my return, my mind dwelt much on the responsibilities the telegraph, as a great agent of humanity as well as a medi- um of commerce, was to bear in its future history. The world had, as yet, learned little of its power. It was a giant, the mighty en- ergies of whose sinews had not been tried for any extended purpose of human use. Enter- ing alike into the social as into the commer- cial necessities of society, its destiny was evi- dently general, and of the most multiform application. To my mind, it had already be- come a sure warning to the universe, in whose beams every clime might rejoice, making mankind, the world over, a common brother- hood, and associating earthly governments into a close community of common interests. I saw it guiding or accomplishing the diplo- macy of courts, the adjudicator of national disputes, the sail of fleets, the march of armies, the fiscal arrangements of national treasuries, the exchanges of commerce, the defenses of extended seaports, municipal reg- ulations, and every public want in which communication by voice, or sign, or courier, has hitherto borne their tardy parts. But after all these uses of its wondrous power had passed like a panorama before my mind, I saw that on the minor arra