y.

It is but fifty-five years since Professor S. F. B. Morse electrified
the civilized world by the completion of his electro-magnetic telegraph.
Since that time great improvements have been made until now it is
difficult to recognize in the delicate mechanisms of the relay, key,
sounder, duplex, quad, and multiplex, the principle first promulgated in
the old Morse register. Its influence was at once felt in all walks of
life; it was an art to be an expert telegrapher. Keeping pace with the
strides of advancing civilization, the telegraph has spread its slender
wires, until now almost the entire world is connected by its magnetism.
Away back in the early fifties when railroads and comforts were few,
while danger and trials were plenty, these faithful knights of the key
carried on their work under the most adverse circumstances. Since its
first appearance it has manifestly been the possessor of millions of
secrets, public and private. In times of joy you flash your
congratulations to distant relatives or friends; in minutes of sorrow
and tribulation, your message of sympathy is quickly carried as a balm
to aching hearts; in the worries of business its use is of the most
vital importance; and while you are peacefully slumbering on some
swiftly moving railroad train the telegraph is one of the principal
means of insuring a safe and speedy trip. Pick up your favorite daily
paper--the one that is always reliable--read the market or press reports
accurately printed, and then think that the telegraph does it all. Read
news from foreign countries--from out-of-the-way places--and think of
the miles of mountains, deserts, plains and valleys passed over; think
of the slender cable down deep in the throbbing bosom of the ocean and
of the little spark that brings the news to your door; and then reflect
on the men whose abilities accomplish these results. Think of his work
in the countries where it is so hot that it seems as if the land beyond
the River Styx is at his elbow; in lands where it is always cold and the
days and nights are long. In season and out; in times of death,
pestilence and famine, with never a murmur, these sturdy, loyal men, and
true-hearted women do their work. All these are incidents of peace. Now
think, when war, grim-visaged and terrible, spreads its mighty power
over the earth. What is responsible for the news of victory? What brings
you the list you so anxiously scan of the dead and wounded? What means
are