When I descended from my room to the kitchen, the next evening, arrayed
for my visit, with all the elegance of which my simple wardrobe
admitted, Mrs. Bray exclaimed,--
"Well, Sandy, I protest, you do look smart! But don't be set up, 'cause
you keep high company. I s'pose, knowin Amos was a family man, and
couldn't go visitin' round, they took a notion to you."
Annie followed me to the door, saying,--
"You must remember to tell me about the picture, Sandy, and what they
say of yours; and do look at the plants Miss Merton promised to show me,
and see just how she looks herself."
"And anything more?" I asked, laughing.
"Yes,--what they say to you. You look as handsome to-night, Sandy, as
the tall gentleman with Miss Merton,--only such a very different
handsome!"
"Then you admired his appearance?" I asked, lingering. "I fancied you
were too busy looking at Miss Merton to think of him."
But Annie continued to unfold her opinion without noticing my remark.
"I should be afraid he wouldn't care for me, if I didn't look and act
just as he wanted me to. I don't like his way of being handsome, Sandy,
so well as yours."
Unconsciously, Annie was making her first experiment in analysis; and as
I did not quite relish the basis upon which my beauty rested, I bade her
good-night, and hurried away.
I knew I was not handsome, yet Annie's naïve admiration undoubtedly
braced me to face the evening. In my gray eye there was nothing of the
soft, dreamy expression usually supposed to accompany the æsthetic
temperament. On the contrary, it had the earnest, scrutinizing glance
peculiar to a more restless intellect than mine. The intent gaze of some
ancestor, perhaps, looked out from these "windows of my soul." If so,
and his spirit was occasionally permitted to view the world through me,
the "fancy gardening" in which I so extensively indulged could scarcely
have been congenial to his tastes. The eye was the salient point,
however, of a countenance not otherwise noticeable, except from a
girlish habit I had of coloring whenever I was suddenly addressed.
When I reached Hillside, I rang the bell with some trepidation, which
was increased by the announcement of the servant that the ladies were at
the tea-table. This trifling annoyance of presenting myself at the
tea-hour, when expected to pass the evening, was sufficiently serious to
my awkwardness to threaten my enjoyment of the visit; but I had scarcely
seated myself in the library when Miss Darry appeared.
"I hoped you would be in doubt as to the hour of coming, Sandy, and get
here early," she said, smiling brightly. "You must let me thank you for
painting that picture for me to look at; I even admired the little white
hand of your plebeian friend, it was so charmingly done."
I could not be annoyed at this mingling of praise and badinage,
especially when she relieved me from all sense of intrusion. Moreover,
she looked so brilliant, so sparkling and happy, that I watched her,
amazed at the metamorphosis from her ordinarily calm, intellectual
conversation and plain appearance.
"I thought perhaps you would keep the picture to please me, Miss Darry,"
I faltered, feeling that I was presenting it to an entirely new
character.
She accepted it, however, most graciously, and led me into the
conservatory, that I might assist her in arranging some baskets of
flowers for the parlor-tables.
"I never did believe in conservatories," she exclaimed, as I expressed
my admiration of the many rare plants. "It is as unnatural a life for
flowers to be crowded together, each in its little pot of earth, as for
human beings in their separate beds in a hospital. The idea of shutting
up plants and pictures in a room by themselves, to be visited on state
occasions, or when some member of the family in a vagrant mood chances
unexpectedly among them, seems to me preposterous."
Meanwhile she ran in and out among the flower-stands, breaking off
branches of flame-colored azalea, creamy, voluptuous-looking callas, and
a variety of drooping blossoms and sprays of green, with a reckless
handling of their proud beauty, which I involuntarily contrasted with
Annie Bray's timid, half-caressing touch of the wild-flowers.
The umber-colored silk she wore toned down what I, who fancied the
delicate sea-shell hue of blondes, should have termed her rather strong
colors; and now, bent on my enjoyment rather than improvement, she
looked much younger, and certainly far handsomer, than I had supposed
she could. Her entire self-possession, the familiarity with which she
approached human beings, Nature, and Art, were to me so many indications
of her power, and because of my own awe in the presence of any
revelation of beauty or intellect, seemed the more wonderful. In
admiration of her ease, I became at ease myself, and was thoroughly
enjoying her gay mood, which puzzled while it charmed me, when the glass
door opening into the drawing-room was pushed aside, and Mr. Lang
entered.
"Good evening, Sandy. Alice and Mr. Leopold have been inquiring for you,
Miss Darry; but don't run away with those baskets so quickly. I want a
few blossoms for Alice's hair. Yours is gorgeous, tropical. Sandy's here
has as much of a wild-wood appearance as exotics will admit of. One
would think Nature was in league with Darley in making these ferns; they
are outlines merely; but this rich red japonica in the centre, on its
cushion of white flowers, shows you a genuine colorist, Sandy."
Miss Darry, making some gay reply, gave me a basket, which, designedly
or not, made me less awkwardly conscious of my hands, and we entered the
drawing-room. Unaccustomed to gayeties of any kind, I was quite dazzled
by the sudden and brilliant blaze of light, the few guests already
assembled, and by Miss Merton's beauty enveloped in soft floating folds
of gossamer, looking as though the mist itself had woven her a garment.
No time, however, was given in which I could relapse into
self-consciousness. Miss Darry occupied me with various statuettes and
engravings, until Mr. Lang rejoined us, accompanied by a gentleman whom
he introduced to me as Mr. Leopold, the painter of the picture which I
was to see in the course of the evening. Although my reading had
necessarily been limited, Miss Darry's persistent training, and my own
voracious appetite for information in everything relating to the arts,
had given me a somewhat superficial knowledge of the pictures, style,
and personal appearance of the best old and modern painters. In spite of
some obstinate facts tending to a different conclusion, I had imbibed
the conventional idea of a genius, that he must dwell in an etherealized
body,--and Mr. Leopold's stalwart frame, full, florid face, and
well-rounded features were a surprise and disappointment. I expected the
Raphaelesque,--tender grace and melancholy; but about these frank blue
eyes and full red lips lurked the good-nature of a healthy school-boy,
the quaint, unchecked humor of a man upon whose life had fallen the
sunshine of prosperity.
"So, you are the young man, Mr. Allen, who painted the Spring Flowers
and the Maiden's Hand," he said, in a full, rich voice, and with a
genial smile. "It is evident, you, too, are in your spring-time, while
I, near my autumn, can afford to refer to the peculiarities of that
period. I cannot regret that you have a life of struggle before you; for
it is not merely the pleasing fancy which paints fine pictures. You
would have let a sunbeam play over that little hand, had you possessed
the technical knowledge to manage it: now, wouldn't you?"
I crimsoned, assenting as though to a crime.
"Effects of sunlight on bright colors are sometimes very striking," he
continued. "A crimson flower wet with dew and nodding in sunshine is a
kind of tremulous rainbow, which a man might well like to copy. We must
make a compact to help each other, Mr. Allen, I want to study human
nature, and would like an introduction to all the oddities of the
village."
I promised to make him acquainted with them, wondering meanwhile that he
craved for his culture what I regarded as the chief obstacle to mine.
"You shall meet Sandy at the forge some day, when work is over, and
visit the villagers," said Mr. Lang. "Miss Darry, shall you or I take
Mr. Allen to see the picture? He may like a longer inspection of it than
some of us."
I looked imploringly at Miss Darry, who, slipping her hand within my
arm, led me into a room corresponding to the conservatory in size and
position. The walls were mostly covered with cabinet-pictures, and among
several larger ones was the recent addition by Mr. Leopold. At my first
glance, I was conscious of that sense of disappointment which comes to
us when our imagination devises an ideal beauty, which human hands rob
of delicacy by the very act of embodiment: moreover, how could I, in my
dreamy, undeveloped boy-life, with a fancy just awakened, and revelling
in its own tropical creations, appreciate the simple strength, the grand
repose of the picture before me? What appeared barren to me in the man
and his works was born of the very depth of a nature which, in copying
the Infinite, had learned not only the tender beauty of flowers, the
consolations of the clouds, the grandeur of mountains, seas, and rocks,
but the beauty of common scenes, the grass and herbage of daily
intercourse and use. Touching the world at all points, he had something
to give and receive from nearly every one he met; and, as Sydney Smith
has said Dr. Chalmers was a thousand men in one, I can say that he had
the versatility and power of ten ordinary artists. At the time, however,
nothing of all this was in my mind; only a certain sense of satisfaction
took the place of disappointment, as I looked at the picture. He had
given clearly the impression of magnitude in the gigantic mass of gray
limestone which juts out of the deep blue Spanish sea. Misty flakes of
dispersing cloud above suggested the recent rain which had clothed its
frequently barren sides with a mantle of verdure. A few bell-shaped
blossoms hung over crevices of rock, fearless in the frail foothold of
their thread-like stems, as innocent child-faces above a precipice. It
was in this simple way, and by the isthmus of sand connecting it to the
continent, long and level, like the dash Nature made after so grand a
work, before descending to the commonplaces of ordinary creation, that
he had toned down the grandeur of stern old Gibraltar.
Miss Darry Indulged me long in my desire to look at the first fine
picture I had ever seen; but when other guests entered, we withdrew to
the farther side of the room, where I was not left in undisturbed
possession of her society, though conscious that she never, for a
moment, lost sight of me or my manner of acquitting myself. Miss Merton,
Miss Darry, Mr. Lang, Mr. Leopold, and a few others, formed the group of
talkers; and I stood within the circle, a listener, until Miss Darry and
Mr. Leopold obliged me to participate. They had an admirable power of
drawing each other out, and he seemed greatly attracted by her brilliant
criticisms of life and Art. Had I known of the theory which, robbed of
its metaphysical subtilties, is advanced in some of our fashionable
romances, I should have been convinced that evening that Miss Darry was,
intellectually at least, my counterpart. If I faltered in my vocabulary,
when expressing an opinion or replying to a question, she supplied the
missing word, or by glance and approving smile reassured me to recall
it; if my thought lacked shape and completeness, she gave it a few sharp
cuts with the chisel of her keen wit and clear intellect, handing it
back for me to color as I chose. Miss Merton, lovely as she was, shone
with a lesser light that evening in Miss Darry's presence; yet Mr. Lang,
tempted away for a moment, always rejoined her with an admiring smile,
well pleased at fascinations less indiscriminately exercised.
A little later, as I again approached Mr. Leopold's picture, not
venturing to return to the parlors, now that Miss Darry was engrossed by
other gentlemen, I became an unwilling listener to a few words of
conversation between Miss Merton and Mr. Lang, who stood just outside
the door.
"What a girl Frank Darry is for accomplishing everything she
undertakes!" said Miss Merton, admiringly; "how she has improved her
_protégé_! he can talk on subjects where I have to be silent, though I
have had what dear mamma used to call a 'finished education.'"
"Yes, darling. She has made his mental growth very rapid; but, in the
process of cultivation, he is gaining a little false pride, which I hope
is not of her planting. He blushes, whenever his trade is alluded to:
foolish fellow! not to see that the very fact of being a blacksmith is
his claim to superiority. A thoroughly trained youth might have done far
more than he without any special ability."
"But, Hamilton, you may misconstrue blushes which are so frequent; he is
in a new world, too; do give him a chance to make himself at home,
before you criticize him. You must admit I was right about his not
annoying one by any decided awkwardness of behavior."
"Oh, yes, dear. A certain sense of fitness goes with the artistic
temperament. I suppose old Dr. Johnson, devouring his food and drinking
innumerable cups of tea, might be a far more shocking social companion
than this blacksmith's apprentice. You are always drawing out the
lovable traits of people, dear Alice," he added, in a lower tone; "and
that is a thousand times better than Frank Darry's intellectual
developments."
They turned away then; and I, angry at being forced to listen at all to
what was not meant for my ear, and the more so that Mr. Lang had spoken
of me so depreciatingly, stood burning with shame and indignation. Annie
Bray's undoubting faith and love would have comforted me without a word
of spoken confidence; but she was not here to give it; and, longing for
the reassurance of Miss Darry's presence, I entered the
drawing-room,--but would gladly have withdrawn again, for Mr. Lang came
quickly toward me.
"Sandy," he said, "this may not be exactly the time to discuss business
matters with you; but your friends seem to feel that you deserve a
better chance in the world. Mr. Bray, to whom I spoke yesterday, says
you were not bound to serve him after your eighteenth birthday, but that
you have never expressed a wish to leave. Don't you see what a foolish
fellow you are to work for him, when you might be earning for yourself?"
"But I have had no money to start with. I have had time for study, too,"
I stammered.
"Two reasons sufficient for an abstracted youth like you, but utterly
unpractical. I want you to hire a forge this side of Warren. I will
insure you custom enough to warrant the step."
He looked at me keenly as he spoke, while I colored with the pride and
indignation which, since his words to Miss Merton a few moments before,
I had been trying to control. Was this to be the end of all my hopes,
the object of Miss Darry's instructions, her flattering encouragements
and exaggerated estimate of my "genius," as she had termed it, that I
might have a forge of my own, to which I should be compelled to give
undivided attention, and shoe Mr. Lang's horses, and possibly some
others belonging to Miss Merton's visitors? Yet, remembering how much
had been already, if unwisely, done for me, I held down these thoughts,
and, after a momentary pause, professed my willingness to think the
matter over, if I could reserve time for other pursuits. His face
lighted up, then, with the smile which had charmed me at the forge.
"You are not spoiled yet, Sandy, I see. If you will only keep to your
trade, I will keep you to your art. You must have a boy at the forge,
and in the afternoons you can come here and paint under Mr. Leopold's
direction: he makes his home here during the summer, and he says you
have a talent worth cultivation."
The revulsion of feeling was as complete as he could have desired; and I
had not fully expressed my gratitude when Miss Darry appeared. I went
with her to bid Miss Merton good-evening, and she stood in the moonlight
beside me on the step, as Annie Bray had done a few hours before; but
now I also was a changed character.
"I am proud of my pupil, Sandy," she said, with more of her ordinary
manner than I had observed during the evening. "If I can place you in
better hands than mine, I shall be willing to give you up."
"Give me up? never!" I cried, "Why, Miss Darry, this evening has proved
to me that I could not sustain myself in any untried position without
some help from you."
She smiled, saying I was ridiculously unconscious of my own ability, and
yet looking gratified, I fancied, at the confession.
(_To be continued._)
THE PROGRESS OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.
In the spring of 1860 an article was published in this magazine with the
above title, giving an account of the extension of the telegraph up to
that time. Its progress since has been very great in every quarter of
the globe. Upon this continent the electric wire extends from the Gulf
of St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico, and from the Atlantic to the
Pacific Ocean, connecting upwards of six thousand cities and villages;
while upon the Eastern Continent unbroken telegraphic communication
exists from London to all parts of Europe,--to Tripoli and Algiers, in
Africa,--Cairo, in Egypt,--Teheran, in Persia,--Jerusalem, in
Syria,--Bagdad and Nineveh, in Asiatic Turkey,--Bombay, Calcutta, and
other important cities, in India,--Irkoutsk, the capital of Eastern
Siberia,--and to Kiakhta, on the borders of China.
But however rapid the extension of the telegraph has been in the past,
it is destined to show still greater advancement in the future. Neither
the American nor the European system has yet attained to its ultimate
development. Transient wars now delay the establishment of lines in San
Juan, Panama, Quito, Lima, Valparaiso, Buenos Ayres, Montevideo, Rio
Janeiro, Surinam, Caraccas, and Mexico, and the incorporating of them,
with all their local ramifications, into one American telegraph system.
The Atlantic cable, although its recent attempted submergence has proved
a failure, will yet be successfully laid; while the equally important
enterprise of establishing overland telegraphic communication with
Europe _viâ_ the Pacific coast and the Amoor River is now being
vigorously pushed forward towards its successful completion.
The latter project, which is being carried out by the Western Union
Extension Telegraph Company, with a capital of ten million dollars,
embraces the construction of a line of telegraph from New Westminster,
British Columbia, the northern terminus of the California State
Telegraph Company, through British Columbia and Russian America to Cape
Prince of Wales, and thence across Behring's Strait to East Cape; or, if
found more practicable, from Cape Romanzoff to St. Lawrence Island,
thence to Cape Tchuktchi, and thence by an inland route around the Sea
of Okhotsk to the mouth of the Amoor River. At this point it is to be
joined by the line now being constructed by the Russian Government to
connect with Irkoutsk, where a line of telegraph begins, which stretches
through Tomsk and Omsk, in Western Siberia, Katharinburg, on the
Asiatic-European frontier, Perm, Kasan, Nijni-Novogorod, and Moscow, to
St. Petersburg.
This line, which was projected by Perry McDonough Collins, Esq., United
States Commercial Agent for the Amoor River, with its extension by the
Russian Government to Irkoutsk, is the link now wanted to supply direct
and unbroken telegraphic communication from Cape Race, in Newfoundland,
on the eastern coast of America, across the Western Continent, the
Pacific Ocean, and the Eastern Continent, to Cape Clear, in Ireland, the
westernmost projection of Europe; and when a submarine cable shall be
successfully laid between Cape Clear and Cape Race, will complete a
telegraphic circuit around the earth between the parallels of forty-two
and sixty-five degrees of north latitude.
The chief difficulties to be anticipated in Mr. Collins's enterprise are
the extent of the territory to be traversed, its wild and rugged surface
formation, and the uncivilized character of its inhabitants.
The distance to be traversed through British America is six hundred
miles; through Russian America, nineteen hundred miles; the length of
the submarine cable across Behring's Strait, four hundred miles; and the
distance from East Cape, by an inland passage around the Sea of
Okhotsk, and through the settlements of Okhotsk, Ayan, and Shanter's
Bay, which are well-known stations of the whale-fishery, to the mouth of
the Amoor River, is about twenty-five hundred miles. The entire length
of the line would thus be about five thousand four hundred miles.
That portion of the route which lies through British Columbia is chiefly
mountainous, but divided into three ranges, whose courses are from north
to south, while intervening valleys invite the introduction of
telegraphs and roads. The Pacific coast of Russian America is mainly
level. The portion of Siberia which lies between East Cape and the head
of the Sea of Okhotsk is, for a large extent, a steppe or plain, with
gentle elevations occasionally rising into mountainous ridges. At the
head of the Sea of Okhotsk a range of mountains must be crossed; and the
region lying between that range and the mouth of the Amoor River is of
the same character as that before mentioned, which extends from the same
range northward to East Cape. The electric telegraph has already been
carried over steppes, in both continents, similar to those above
described; and the Pacific telegraph line, in crossing the Sierra
Nevada, rises to an elevation greater than that which is to be
surmounted on this line.
Suitable timber for setting up the line can be found on those portions
of the route lying within British Columbia and the Russian dominions on
each continent, with the exception of an unwooded steppe five hundred
miles wide on each side of Behring's Strait. Here the needful timber can
be brought near to the line, either by sea or from the forest-covered
shores of navigable rivers.
The temperature of the region through which the northern part of the
line would pass is very low; but the winter is less severe than between
the same parallels of latitude on the Atlantic coast. The telegraphic
line which connects St. Petersburg with Archangel, on the White Sea, and
that also which passes around the Gulf of Bothnia and connects St.
Petersburg with Tornea, are maintained in operation without difficulty,
although they cross as high parallels of latitude as those which lie in
the way of this overland line to Europe. The waters of Behring's Strait
are about one hundred and eighty feet deep, and they are frozen through
one half of the year; but the congealed mass, when broken, generally
takes the form of anchor ice, and not that of iceberg. Thus climate
seems to offer no serious obstacle to the enterprise; while it is worthy
of consideration that in high latitudes timber is far less perishable
than in low, and less insulating material is required in cold regions
than in more genial climates.
Indian tribes are found along the American part of the route, but they
have been so well subjected to the influences of society and government,
through the operations of the fur-trade, that no serious resistance from
them is apprehended. The inhabitants of Asiatic Russia, who dwell
inland, are nomadic Tartars, affecting much independence, but they are,
nevertheless, not savages, like the American natives. After centuries of
internal war, they have now settled into a state of semi-civilization,
in which they are accustomed to barter with whalers, with exploring
parties, and with the Government agents of Russia, and they are
hospitably inclined by that intercourse. Thus it is seen that there are
no insuperable obstacles, either physical or social, in the way of this
projected line of intercontinental telegraph.
From New Westminster, the capital of British Columbia, situated on
Frazer River, about fifteen miles from its mouth, and the terminus of
the California State Telegraph, the line of the Collins Overland
Telegraph has already been commenced. A letter from Mr. F. L. Pope,
Assistant-Engineer of the Overland Company, dated June 13th, 1865,
states that the work on this portion of the line is proceeding with
great energy. Scarcely two months had elapsed since active operations
were commenced; and yet during that time nearly three hundred miles of
poles had been cut and prepared for use, a large number had been set,
and the remainder had been already distributed along the line. The poles
are nearly all of cedar, and of good size, and will form one of the most
durable lines on the American continent. When the extremely mountainous
and difficult nature of the country along the Frazer River is taken into
consideration, the rapidity with which this large amount of work has
been done is extraordinary. It seems quite probable that the line will
be finished the present season from New Westminster to Quesnell River,
the terminus of the wagon-road to the mines.
The Colonial Government are now engaged in cutting a road from New
Westminster to Yale, a distance of about ninety miles, along which the
wire will be carried. There has heretofore been no communication between
these points except by water. The river is bordered on both sides by
high mountains and dense forests of heavy timber, with an almost
impenetrable undergrowth. Notwithstanding these difficulties, Mr.
Conway, one of the telegraph engineers, made an exploration of the
entire route, during the latter part of last winter, on snow-shoes,
being at one time three days in the woods without food or blankets.
From Yale to the Quesnell River, a distance of some three hundred miles,
the line will follow the wagon-road, which has been built at an enormous
expense by the Colonial Government, as a means of communication with the
gold-mining regions of Carriboo. It will be a matter of considerable
difficulty to set up a line of telegraph over that portion of this road
which passes through the great canon, as in many places the road has a
perpendicular wall of rock upon one side and a perpendicular precipice
on the other, and in one place is carried around the face of a cliff in
this manner, at an elevation of some two thousand feet, directly over
the river, being in some places blasted out of the solid rock, and in
others supported by a sort of staging.
Two exploring parties have been dispatched from San Francisco: one to
examine the route through Eastern Siberia, between Behring's Strait and
the Amoor; and the other to follow the proposed route up the Frazer
River in British Columbia, and thence along the valley supposed to exist
between the Rocky Mountains and the Coast Range, to the head-waters of
Pelly River, following down the valley of this river and the Yerkin,
into which it empties, to a point near the mouth of the latter, or in
the neighborhood of Behring's Strait.
The Pacific Telegraph Line, which will form an important link in the
overland line to Europe, was projected in 1859, when the measure was
first brought to the attention of Congress. A bill in aid of the project
was passed after some opposition, and proposals for the construction of
the line were invited by Secretary Cobb. Mr. Hiram Sibley, President of
the Western Union Telegraph Company, who was really the originator of
the whole enterprise, submitted to the directors of the Company the
question of authorizing him to send in proposals; but so formidable did
the undertaking appear, that the proposition was carried only by a
single vote.
After long and tedious delays on the part of Secretary Cobb, the
contract for building the line was awarded, on the 20th of September,
1860, to Mr. Sibley, on behalf of the Western Union Telegraph Company.
The Company at once assumed the contract, and furnished all the money
required for the line east of Salt Lake.
Mr. J. H. Wade, of Cleveland, one of the officers of the Company, now
visited California to confer with parties familiar with the various
routes, to determine where and how to build the line, and to arrange
with the telegraph companies in the Pacific States to extend their lines
eastward and form a business connection. The California Company agreed
to assume the construction of the line to Salt Lake City, and, if
possible, to have it completed to that point as soon as the line from
the eastward reached there. The route selected was _viâ_ Forts Kearney,
Laramie, and Bridger, crossing the Rocky Mountains at the South Pass,
and thence to Salt Lake City; and from this point, _viâ_ Forts
Crittenden and Churchill, across the Sierra Nevada Mountains to
Placerville and San Francisco. Mr. Edward Creighton, who had already
surveyed the proposed route, and was convinced of the feasibility of
maintaining a line over it, was appointed superintendent of
construction.
The Company was organized April 17th, 1862, after which time nearly all
the wire, insulators, and other material had to be manufactured before
the construction of the line could be proceeded with. The reader can
judge of the extent of the preparations required for setting up two
thousand miles of telegraph through a wilderness inhabited only by
Indians and wild beasts, and a part of which was a desert. The materials
and tools were taken to Omaha, Kansas, at which point everything
necessary for the enterprise was gathered in readiness to start
westward.
Of the force employed on the Pacific side we have no knowledge; but for
the line from Omaha to Salt Lake City, Mr. Creighton had four hundred
men, fitted out for a hard campaign, with a rifle and navy-revolver for
each man, and with the necessary provisions, including one hundred head
of cattle for beef, to be driven with the train and killed as needed.
For the transportation of the material and the supplies for this army of
workmen, five hundred oxen and mules and over one hundred wagons were
purchased by the Company; and these not proving sufficient, other
transportation was hired, making the total number of beasts of burden
seven hundred oxen and one hundred pair of mules.
The first pole was set up on the 4th of July, 1862, and the line was
completed to Salt Lake on the 18th of October following,--the California
party reaching the same point six days later. The work proceeded at the
rate of about ten miles per day.
The whole line is upon poles,--it being thought best to cross the rivers
in this manner rather than by means of submarine cables. The country is
for the most part bare of wood; the longest distance, however, that
timber had to be drawn in one stretch was two hundred and forty miles.
The poles are of large size, and stand eighty to the mile, more than
half of red cedar, the remainder mostly pine. On the highest mountains,
where the snow accumulates to a great depth during the winter, they are
of extra size, and sufficiently tall to keep the wires above the deepest
snow; they are also placed close enough together to prevent the wire
being broken by an accumulation of snow and sleet.
The wire used in this line is No. 9 iron, zinc-coated, weighing three
hundred and fifty pounds to the mile, and the total weight used between
Omaha and San Francisco amounts to seven hundred thousand pounds. The
insulators are of glass, protected by a wooden shield, of the pattern
known as the Wade insulator.
The line is worked by Morse instruments, usually direct from Chicago to
Salt Lake, Hicks's self-acting repeaters being kept in the circuit at
Omaha and Fort Laramie. At Salt Lake the messages are rewritten, and
thence sent direct to San Francisco. The stations average about one for
each fifty miles, and the whole length of the line is inspected twice a
week by persons employed for the purpose. The cost of construction was
about two hundred and fifty dollars per mile.
No trouble was experienced from Indian depredations until the last
winter. Up to that time the line had worked almost uninterruptedly. Even
during the Indian difficulties of the previous summer and autumn, which
compelled the suspension of the overland mail, the telegraph was not in
any manner molested by the savages. This was supposed to be owing in a
great measure to the influence of superstitious fear among them in
regard to the wire, which they supposed to be under the especial care of
the Great Spirit; but it was probably largely due also to the many kind
offices done them by the telegraph-operators, who frequently ascertained
where the buffalo were in force, and informed their red-skinned
neighbors, who were thus enabled to find their favorite game. The charm
is now, however, unfortunately, dispelled; and the savages take every
opportunity to break and carry off the wire and destroy the poles.
Government is dispatching a large force of cavalry to punish the
marauders and protect the line, which it is to be hoped may prove
effectual.
* * * * *
It has already been mentioned that the Russian Government has undertaken
to extend the main eastern and western line from Irkoutsk to the mouth
of the Amoor River. This extension is now rapidly progressing. But this
is only a single and not very prominent part of the work which the
Emperor of Russia has begun. His design embraces nothing less than the
following stupendous works, namely:--
A line, with the necessary submarine cables, from the mouth of the Amoor
River, across the Straits of Tartary, over the island of Sakhalien,
across the Straits of La Pérouse, over the Island of Jesso, through
Hakodadi, and across the Straits of Sangar, to Jeddo, the capital of
Japan.
A line from the confluence of the Usuri with the Amoor, seven hundred
miles above the mouth of the latter, thence southward, on the bank of
the Usuri, to Lake Kingka, and thence to the port of Vladi Vastok, on
the coast of Tartary, opposite the port of Hakodadi, on the eastern
coast of the Japanese Sea. Vladi Vastok is selected by the Emperor for
his naval station on the Pacific coast.
A line from Irkoutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia, through Kiakhta,
now the entrepôt of European and Chinese overland commerce, through the
vast territory of the Mongols, to the gate in the Chinese wall at Yahol,
and thence to Pekin, the capital of the Chinese Empire.[E]
A line from a station on the main continental line at Omsk, near the
southern boundary of Asiatic Russia, passing through Mongolia, and
entering China at Hirck, sometimes called Illy, thence crossing
Turkistan, Bokhara, and Balk, to Cabool, in Afghanistan, thence to
capital places in the Punjaub, where it will meet the telegraphic system
of India, and thus become a medium of communication between London and
the colonial dependencies of Great Britain, Holland, Spain, and
Portugal, on the shores and islands of the great Indian Ocean.
A line from Kasan, on the main central Russian line, through Georgia and
Circassia, along the western shore of the Caspian Sea, to Teheran, the
capital of Persia, thence to the Tigris, at Bagdad, thence descending
along the banks of that river to the head of the Persian Gulf, there to
be connected with the Oriental telegraph system of India.
The line from Irkoutsk to Pekin American citizens residing in China are
now soliciting, with good prospect of success, permission from the
Chinese Government to extend through the Empire, with the needful
branches, connecting the principal ports along the Pacific coast,
opposite California. A company to carry out this project has been
organized under the laws of the State of New York. The wires of this
company are first to be put up from Canton to Macao and Hong Kong, a
distance of 140 miles,--Canton having a population of 1,000,000,
Hong-Kong of 40,000, and the trade of both cities world-famous. Lying
245 miles north is Amoy, with 250,000 inhabitants; and 120 miles farther
in the same direction is Foochow, a city with a population of 600,000,
and within 70 miles of the black-tea districts, with large commerce, and
with numerous manufactures of great value. Beyond it 250 miles is
Ningpo, with 300,000 inhabitants, and thriving manufactures of silks.
Eighty miles north is Shanghai, a city of not less than 200,000
inhabitants, and possessing a larger inland or native trade than any
other in China. Yet between these great marts there is no telegraphic
communication whatever,--nor, indeed, is there a line in any part of the
whole Chinese Empire. The company proposes, therefore, to connect these
great commercial cities, and, having done that, to carry on its line to
Nankin, with its 400,000 inhabitants, and thence to Pekin, which has a
population of 2,000,000, and is the capital of an empire spread over an
area of 5,000,000 square miles, and containing more than 420,000,000
souls, who pay to the Government an annual revenue of $120,000,000. It
may well be understood, that, for Government purposes alone, a line of
telegraph thus extending between the chief cities of China will prove of
incalculable value, alike in its use, and in its profits to those who
erect it and receive its income. The enterprise is a great one, but its
reward will be great. Its successful accomplishment seems to be well
assured; and New York may expect presently to claim the honor of first
giving to the oldest of existing empires the beneficent invention which
the newest of nations created, and at the same time of taking the final
step for the completion of the one great line which is to put all the
countries of the earth in instant communication.
A line from Calcutta to Canton is already undertaken by an English
company, with due authority from the British Government.
In Australia there are now in operation twelve thousand miles of
telegraph-wire. This Australian system, which is at present so purely
local and isolated, is nevertheless expected to be brought into
combination, by alternating submarine and island wires, with the Chinese
and Russian line above described.
The statistics of the telegraph-lines in Great Britain show not only an
increase in the number of lines, but a great augmentation in the amount
of business transacted. In 1861 there were 11,528 miles of line open for
public use; in 1862, 12,711 miles; and in 1863, 13,892 miles, comprising
65,012 miles of wire. Last year, the number of stations was augmented in
like proportion; and facilities were offered for the transmission of
telegraphic dispatches at no fewer than 1,755 stations, containing 6,196
instruments, through which about 3,400,000 telegrams were sent. In
addition to the lines on British soil, the Submarine Telegraph Company
has cables stretching to Calais, Boulogne, Dieppe, Jersey, Ostend,
Hanover, and Denmark, with which the other lines are more or less in
connection, covering 887 miles with 2,683 miles of wire. This company
has upwards of 3,000 stations on the Continent. The messages sent by it
to and from foreign countries were, in 1861, 230,000; in 1862, 310,595;
and in 1863, 345,784.
France possesses a system comprising 71,034 miles of wire and 1,301
stations, which transmit about 1,500,000 private dispatches annually,
and nearly 175,000 official ones. Russia has 36,663 miles of wire;
Austria, 22,230; Italy, 20,120; Prussia, 24,149; Spain, 17,743; Belgium,
3,773; Switzerland, 3,720; Turkey, 6,571; Persia, 2,500; Greece, 3,000;
India, 10,994, and 136 stations; Australia, 12,000; South Australia,
2,000; the United States, 120,000; the British Provinces in America,
20,000;--making a total of upwards of 440,000 miles of aërial wire in
operation in all parts of the world.
* * * * *
The following tables give the details of the principal cables hitherto
laid by all makers. They are divided into three heads: 1st, Those which
have been wholly successful, and are now working (September, 1865); 2d,
Those which were partially successful, having worked for a time; 3d,
Those which wholly failed, or never worked after their submergence.
TABLE I.
_Submarine Telegraph Cables which are now in Successful Working Order._
Column A: No.
Column B: Date when laid.
Column C: From
Column D: To
Column E: Number of conducting wires.
Column F: Length of cable in statute miles.
Column G: Length of insulated wire in statute miles.
Column H: Maximum depth of water in fathoms.
Column I: Weight in tons per statute mile.
Column J: Length of time the cables have worked. Years.
A B C D E F G H I J
1 1851 Dover Calais 4 27 108 30 6.00 14
2 1852 Keyhaven Hurst Castle 4 3 12 .. .. 13
3 1853 Denmark Across the Belt 3 18 54 15 4.00 12
4 1853 Dover Ostend 6 80-1/2 483 30 5.75 12
5 1853 Firth of Forth ... 4 5 20 .. 7.00 12
6 1853 England Holland 1 120 120 30 1.75 12
7 1853 Portpatrick Donaghadee 6 25 150 160 6.00 12
8 1854 Portpatrick Whitehead 6 27 162 150 6.00 11
9 1854 Sweden Denmark 3 12 36 14 6.00 11
10 1854 Italy Corsica 6 120 660 325 8.00 11
11 1854 Corsica Sardinia 6 10 60 20 8.00 11
12 1855 Egypt ... 4 10 40 .. 6.00 10
13 1855 Italy Sicily 1 5 5 27 6.00 10
14 1856 Prince Edward Cape Breton 1 12 12 14 2.50 9
Island
15 1857 Norway across ... 1 49 49 300 2.75 8
Fiords
16 1857 Across mouth of ... 1 3 3 .. 1.75 8
Danube
17 1857 Ceylon India 1 60 60 45 2.75 8
18 1858 Italy Sicily 1 8 8 60 5.25 7
19 1858 England Holland 4 140 560 30 9.75 7
20 1858 England Hanover 2 280 560 30 3.00 7
21 1858 Norway across ... 1 16 16 300 2.75 7
Fiords
22 1858 Dardanelles Scio 1 115 115 200 1.00 7
23 1858 Scio Syra 1 85 85 200 1.00 7
24 1859 Alexandria ... 4 2 8 .. 5.25 6
25 1859 England Denmark 3 360 1,104 30 4.00 6
26 1859 Scio Smyrna 1 40 40 40 1.00 6
27 1859 Syra Athens 1 105 105 150 1.00 6
28 1859 Sweden Gottland 1 64 64 80 2.50 6
29 1859 Folkestone Boulogne 6 24 144 32 9.50 6
30 1859 Across rivers ... 1 10 10 .. 4.50 6
in India
31 1859 Otranto Avlona 1 50 50 400 1.00 6
32 1859 Malta Sicily 1 60 60 79 3.25 6
33 1859 Jersey Pirou in France 1 21 21 15 3.75 6
34 1859 South Australia Tasmania 1 140 140 60 2.00 6
35 1860 France Algiers 1 520 520 1,585 1.14 5
36 1860 Denmark (Great Belt) 6 14 84 18 8.00 5
37 1860 Denmark (Great Belt) 3 14 42 18 6.00 5
38 1860 In Arracan ... 1 116 116 50 1.00 5
39 1860 Barcelona Port Mahon 1 198 198 1,400 1.25 5
40 1860 Minorca Majorca 2 35 70 250 2.00 5
41 1860 Iviza Majorca 2 74 148 500 2.00 5
42 1860 San Antonio Iviza 2 76 152 450 2.00 5
43 1861 Corfu Otranto 1 90 90 1,000 2.75 4
44 1861 Norway across ... 1 16 16 300 2.75 4
Fiords
45 1861 Toulon Corsica 1 195 195 1,550 1.14 4
46 1861 Malta Alexandria 1 1,535 1,535 420 1.85 4
47 1861 Beachy Head Dieppe 6 80 320 30 8.00 4
48 1862 Abermawr Grenore 4 63 252 58 5.25 3
49 1862 England Holland 4 130 520 30 9.00 3
50 1862 Across rivers ... 1 2 2 .. .. 3
in Ireland
51 1862 Firth of Forth ... 4 6 24 7 .. 3
52 1862 Fortress Monroe Cherrystone 1 23 23 .. .. 3
53 1862 Fortress Monroe Newport News 1 3 3 .. .. 3
54 1863 Sardinia Sicily 1 243 243 1,200 .. 2
55 1864 Gwadur Fao 1 1,450 1,450 .. .. 1
(Persian Gulf)
_____ ______
6,979 11,127
In addition to the above, there have been laid across American rivers,
since 1854, 95 lines, in lengths of from 120 feet to two miles, and
comprising from 120 feet to 6 miles of insulated wire each,--making an
aggregate of 250 miles of subaqueous wire in operation on this
continent, and a total of 6,979 miles of cable, and 11,127 miles of
submarine wire in operation in all parts of the world.
TABLE II.
_Submarine Telegraph Cables which have been successful for some Time,
but are not now working._
Column A: No.
Column B: Date when laid.
Column C: From
Column D: To
Column E: Number of conducting wires.
Column F: Length of cable in statute miles.
Column G: Length insulated wire in statute miles.
Column H: Maximum depth of water in fathoms.
Column I: Weight in tons per statute mile.
Column J: Length of time the cables have worked.
A B C D E F G H I J
1 1850 Dover Calais 1 25 25 30 .. 1 day.
2 1853 England Holland 1 360 360 30 2.00 5 yrs.
(Three Cables)
3 1854 Holyhead Howth 1 75 75 70 2.00 5 "
4 1854 Nantucket Cape Cod 1 25 25 16 .. ....
5 1855 Varna Balaklava 1 355 355 300 0.10 9 mos.
6 1855 Balaklava Eupatoria 1 1 1 .. .. 9 "
7 1856 Martha's Vineyard Cape Cod 1 5 5 15 .. 2 wks.
8 1856 Newfoundland Cape Breton 1 85 85 360 2.50 9 yrs.
9 1857 Sardinia Bona 4 150 600 1,500 .. 3 "
10 1857 Varna Constantinople 1 170 170 .. 0.75 5 "
11 1857 Cape Cod Naushon 1 1 .. .. .. 2 "
12 1857 Martha's Vineyard Nantucket 1 30 30 16 .. 4 "
13 1857 Sardinia Corfu 1 700 700 1,000 0.90 1 "
14 1858 England Channel Islands 1 102 102 60 2.50 3 "
15 1858 Ireland(Atlantic) Newfoundland 1 2,500 2,500 2,400 1.00 23 ds.
16 1859 Singapore Batavia 1 630 630 20 0.04 2 yrs.
17 1859 Suez Kurrachee 1 3,500 3,500 1,910 0.94 6 mos.
(Red Sea & India)
18 1859 Spain Africa (Centa) 1 25 25 .. 1.00 1 yr.
19 1859 England Isle of Man 1 36 36 30 2.50 3 yrs.
20 1859 South Australia Tasmania 1 100 100 60 2.00 1 yr.
21 1859 Liverpool Holyhead 2 25 50 14 3.10 1 "
22 1859 Syra Candia 1 150 150 .. 0.89 3 yrs.
23 1860 Across the Mersey .. 1 3 3 .. .. 1 yr.
_____ _____
9,053 9,527
TABLE III.
_Submarine Telegraph Cables Which Are Total Failures._
Column A: No.
Column B: Date when laid.
Column C: From
Column D: To
Column E: Number of conducting wires.
Column F: Length of cable in statute miles.
Column G: Length of insulated wire in statute miles.
Column H: Maximum depth of water in fathoms.
Column I: Weight in tons per statute mile.
A B C D E F G H I
1 1852 Holyhead Howth 1 75 75 70 0.45
2 1852 Portpatrick Donaghadee 2 17 34 160 ..
3 1852 Portpatrick Donaghadee 5 15 75 160 4.80
4 1854 Holyhead Howth 1 65 65 70 2.00
5 1855 Sardinia Africa 6 50 300 800 8.00
6 1855 Cape Ray Cape North 3 30 90 360 ..
7 1855 Sardinia Africa 3 160 480 1,500 3.70
8 1857 Ireland Newfoundland 1 300 300 2,400 ..
(Lost in laying)
9 1859 Candia Alexandria 1 150 150 1,600 0.89
10 1865 Ireland Newfoundland 1 1,300 1,300 2,400 1.75
It will be seen from the above list of failures, that the great
extension and success of submarine cables has been attained through many
great failure,--among the most prominent being the old and new Atlantic,
the Red Sea and India, (which was laid in five sections, that worked
from six to nine months each, but was never in working order from end to
end,) the Singapore and Batavia, and Sardinia and Corfu. None of these
cable, with the exception of the new Atlantic, were tested under water
after manufacture, and every one of them was covered with a sheathing of
light iron wire, weighing in the aggregate only about fifteen hundred
pounds per mile.
These two peculiarities are sufficient to account for every failure
which has occurred, with the exception of the new Atlantic. No
electrical test will show the presence of flaws in the insulating cover
of a wire, unless water, or some other conductor, enters the flaws and
establishes an electrical connection between the outside and inside of
the cable. All cables now manufactured are tested under water before
being laid.
* * * * *
Communication between the Ottoman capital and Western Europe passes
through Vienna. From this city to Constantinople there are two distinct
lines,--one passing by Semlin and Belgrade to Adrianople, the other by
Toultcha, Kustendji, and Varna. There is a third line to Adrianople by
Bucharest; and by the opening of the submarine line between Avlona and
Otranto, in Italy, the Turkish telegraph service will be in direct
communication with the West, without going through Servia or the
Moldo-Wallachian Principalities.
Communication between Constantinople and India is maintained over the
following route:--To Ismid, 55 miles; thence to Mudurli, 104 miles;
thence to Angora, 111 miles; thence to Guzgat, 113 miles; thence to
Sivas, 140 miles; Kharpoot, 178 miles; Diarbekir, 77 miles; Mardeen, 61
miles; Djezireh, 104 miles; Mosul, (Nineveh,) 91 miles; Kerkook, 114
miles; Bagdad, 189 miles. From Bagdad to Fao, at the mouth of the
Shat-el-Arab, on the Persian Gulf, is 400 miles. From Fao to Kurrachee
the submarine cable stretches along the bottom of the Persian Gulf for
1,450 miles; and thence are 500 miles of aërial line across a portion of
British India to Bombay.
The accounts of the successful opening of this line tell of the
astonishment of the savage Beloochees and Arabs along the Mekran coast
at the marvel of a blue spark flashing for the Sahib to the Indus and
back again in less time than it takes to smoke a hookah. At Gwadur, no
sooner was the cable landed than the people of the surrounding country
flocked down to hear and talk of the Feringhee witchcraft. Chiefs of the
Beloochees, Muscatees, and Heratees, with their retainers, trod upon
each other's toes in their eagerness to see it work. Gwadur has given up
the idea that Mahomet taught everything that could be known, and now
sits upon the carpet of astonishment and chews the betel-nut of
meditation.
The establishment of the electric telegraph in India presented some
curious as well as difficult problems. In the first place, it was
discovered that the air of India is in a state of constant electrical
perturbation of the strongest kind, so that the instruments there
mounted went into a high fever and refused to work. Along the north and
south lines a current of electricity was constantly passing, which threw
the needles out of gear and baffled the signallers. Moreover, the
tremendous thunder-storms ran up and down the wires and melted the
conductors; the monsoon winds tore the teak-posts out of the sodden
ground; the elephants and buffaloes trampled the fallen lines into kinks
and tangles; the Delta aborigines carried off the timber supports for
fuel, and the wires or iron rods upon them to make bracelets and to
supply the Hindoo smitheries; the cotton- and rice-boats, kedging up and
down the river, dragged the subaqueous wires to the surface. In addition
to these graver difficulties were many of an amusing character. Wild
pigs and tigers scratched their skins against the posts in the jungle,
and porcupines and bandicoots burrowed them out of the ground. Kites,
fishing-eagles, and hooded-crows came in hundreds and perched upon the
line to see what on earth it could mean, and sometimes after a
thunder-storm, when the wires were wet, were found dead by dozens, the
victims of their curiosity, Monkeys climbed the posts and ran along the
lines, chattering, and dropping an interfering tail from one wire to
another, which tended to confound the conversations of Calcutta.
Parrots, with the same contempt for electrical insulation, fastened upon
one string by the beak and another by the leg; and in one village, the
complacent natives hung their fishing-lines to dry upon them.
In 1856 there were four thousand miles of telegraph-wire stretched over
India: some upon bamboo posts, which bent to the storms and thus defied
them; some, as in the Madras Presidency, upon monoliths of
granite,--these, during the Mutiny, proving worth ten times their cost.
* * * * *
Whilst the telegraph has been thus rapidly encircling the globe with its
iron threads, great improvement has been made in the apparatus for
transmitting the electrical signals over them. Instruments called
translators, or repeaters, have been devised, by which aërial lines may
be operated, without repetition, over distances of many thousands of
miles. Through the use of this valuable invention upon the California
line, operators in New York and San Francisco are able to converse as
readily and rapidly as those situated at the extremities of a line only
a hundred miles in length.
The enormous increase in the amount of matter to be transmitted over the
wires has stimulated the inventive genius of our own country and Europe
to produce an apparatus by which the capacity of a wire may be greatly
increased. Mr. M. G. Farmer of Boston, Mr. J. G. Smith of Portland,
Maine, Dr. Gintl of Germany, and one or two other persons, have solved
the problem of the simultaneous transmission of messages over a single
wire in opposite directions. But while their apparatus, with the proper
arrangement of batteries, will unquestionably permit the accomplishment
of this apparent paradox, the natural disturbances upon a wire of any
considerable length, together with the inequalities of the current
caused by escape in wet weather, have precluded its practical use.
In this country, General Lefferts of New York, and in Europe, Professor
Bonelli, have devoted much time and expense to the perfection of
apparatus for securing greater rapidity of transmission over the aërial
lines.
General Lefferts owns several patents covering inventions of great
ingenuity and value, which are now being perfected and will shortly be
brought into operation. The apparatus consists of an instrument,
operated by keys similar to those of a piano-forte, for punching
characters, composed of dots and lines, upon a narrow strip of paper.
The paper, when thus prepared, is passed rapidly through an instrument
attached to a telegraph-wire, at the other end of which is a similar
instrument which runs in unison. The first instrument is provided with a
flexible metallic comb, which presses through the perforations in the
paper and thus closes the circuit at each dot and line, while the second
instrument is provided with a metallic stylus, or pointer, which rests
upon a fillet of paper prepared with chemicals, and produces, whenever
the circuit is closed, dots and lines of a dark blue color upon the
prepared paper. When the paper is prepared by the perforating apparatus,
it can be run through the instrument at any rate of speed that is
desirable, and it is estimated that with this apparatus one wire may
easily perform as much work in a day as ten can under the ordinary
arrangement.
In Professor Bonelli's system the dispatch is set up in printing-type,
and placed on a little carriage, which is made to pass beneath a comb
with five teeth, which are in communication with five aërial wires of
the line, at the extremity of which these same wires are joined to the
five teeth of a second comb, under which passes a chemically prepared
paper, carried along on a little carriage similar to the one at the
other end on which the printing-type is placed. If under this
arrangement the electric circuit of a battery composed of a sufficient
number of elements, and distributed in a certain order, be completed,
then, at the same time that the first comb is passing over the
printing-type at the one end, the second comb at the other end will
trace the dispatch on the prepared paper in beautiful Roman letters, and
with so great a rapidity that it may be expected that five hundred
messages of twenty words each will be transmitted hourly.
On Wednesday, April 19th, the day of Mr. Lincoln's funeral, eighty-five
thousand words of reports were transmitted between Washington and New
York, between the hours of 7, P. M., and 1, A. M., being at the rate of
over fourteen thousand words per hour. Nine wires were employed for the
purpose. Thirteen thousand six hundred words were transmitted by the
House printing instruments on a single wire after half past seven
o'clock.
A telegraphic message was recently received in London from India in
eight hours and a half. This message was forwarded by the Indo-European
Telegraph Company, _viâ_ Kurrachee and the Persian Gulf, crossing one
half of Asia and the whole of Europe.
During the late Rebellion in this country the telegraph was extensively
employed both by the Government and the Insurgents. In the course of the
past year, there have been in the service of the Government thirty
field-trains, distributed as follows:--In the Army of the Potomac, five;
in the Department of the Cumberland, five; in the Department of the
Gulf, three; in the Department of North Carolina and Virginia, three; in
the Department of the South, two; in the Department of the Tennessee,
six; in the Department of the Ohio, two; at the Signal Camp of
Instruction, Georgetown, D. C., three; at the United States Military
Academy, West Point, New York, one. Of these trains, some were equipped
with five, and others with ten miles of insulated wire. There were
carried in the trains lances for setting up the wire, when
necessary,--reels, portable by hand, carrying wire made purposely
flexible for this particular use,--and various minor appliances, which
experience has proved useful. A military organization was directed for
each train.
In duty of this kind, the construction of the trains, the equipment to
be carried by them, and the military organization to be provided for
their use, to enable them to be most rapidly and anywhere brought into
action, are the subjects for study: the particular instrument to be
equipped is a secondary consideration. The soldiers drilled to the duty
of construction acquire in a short time a remarkable skill in the rapid
extension of these lines. As was anticipated, they have proved valuable
auxiliaries to the services of the corps, and have sometimes rendered
them available when they would have been otherwise useless. The greatest
distance at which the instruments are reported to have worked is twenty
miles. The average distances at which they are used are from five to
eight miles. The average speed of the most rapid construction is
reported to be at the rate of a slow walk.
At the first Battle of Fredericksburg field-trains were for the first
time in the history of the war used on the battle-field, under the fire
of the enemy's batteries. The movements to be made on the day of that
battle were of the first magnitude. The movements of the retreat were
perilous to the whole army. The trains in use contributed something to
the success of those movements.
Many incidents are recorded of operators accompanying raiding parties
into the enemy's territory and tapping the telegraph-lines, sometimes
obtaining valuable information. One is related by the "Selma Rebel." The
operator at that place was called to his instrument by some one up the
Tennessee and Alabama Road, who desired information as to the number of
the forces and supplies at Coosa Bridge. After getting all the
information he could, regarding the location and strength of the Rebel
forces, he informed the Selma operator that he was attached to the
expedition under General Wilson, and that, at that particular time, he
was stationed with his instruments up a tree near Monticello, in the
hardest rain he ever saw! Permission being given, he sent a dispatch to
a young lady in Mobile, and another to a telegraph-operator in the Rebel
lines, telling him he loved him as much as before the war. After some
other conversation, the Yankee operator clambered down from the tree,
mounted his horse, and rode away.
FOOTNOTES:
[E] The Chinese Government has been informed by the Russian Ambassador
that the Russian portion of this line to Pekin will be completed by the
first of January, 1868.
THE FIELD OF GETTYSBURG.
In the month of August, 1865, I set out to visit some of the scenes of
the great conflict through which the country has lately passed.
On the twelfth, I reached Harrisburg,--a plain, prosaic town of brick
and wood, with nothing especially attractive about it, except its
broad-sheeted, shining river, flowing down from the Blue Ridge, around
wooded islands, and between pleasant shores.
It is in this region that the traveller from the North first meets with
indications of recent actual war. The Susquehanna, on the eastern shore
of which the city stands, forms the northern limit of Rebel military
operations. The "highwater mark of the Rebellion" is here: along these
banks its uttermost ripples died. The bluffs opposite the town are still
crested with the hastily constructed breastworks, on which the citizens
worked night and day in the pleasant month of June, 1863, throwing up,
as it were, a dike against the tide of invasion. These defences were of
no practical value. They were unfinished when the Rebels appeared in
force in the vicinity. Harrisburg might easily have been taken, and a
way opened into the heart of the North. But a Power greater than man's
ruled the event. The Power that lifted these azure hills, and spread out
the green valleys, and hollowed a passage for the stream, appointed to
treason also a limit and a term. "Thus far, and no farther."
The surrounding country is full of lively reminiscences of those
terrible times. Panic-stricken populations flying at the approach of the
enemy; whole families fugitive from homes none thought of defending;
flocks and herds, horses, wagon-loads of promiscuously heaped household
stuffs and farm produce; men, women, children, riding, walking, running,
driving or leading their bewildered four-footed chattels,--all rushing
forward with clamor and alarm under clouds of dust, crowding every road
to the river, and thundering across the long bridges regardless of the
"five-dollars-fine" notice (though it is to be hoped that the
toll-takers did their duty):--such were the scenes which occurred to
render the Rebel invasion memorable. The thrifty German farmers of the
lower counties did not gain much credit either for courage or patriotism
at that time. It was a panic, however, to which almost any community
would have been liable. Stuart's famous raid of the previous year was
well remembered. If a small cavalry force had swept from their track
through a circuit of about sixty miles over two thousand horses, what
was to be expected from Lee's whole army? Resistance to the formidable
advance of one hundred thousand disciplined troops was of course out of
the question. The slowness, however, with which the people responded to
the State's almost frantic calls for volunteers was in singular contrast
with the alacrity each man showed to run off his horses and get his
goods out of Rebel reach.
From Harrisburg, I went, by the way of York and Hanover, to Gettysburg.
Having hastily secured a room at a hotel in the Square, (the citizens
call it the "Di'mond,") I inquired the way to the battle-ground.
"You are on it now," said the landlord, with proud satisfaction,--for
it is not every man that lives, much less keeps a tavern, on the field
of a world-famous fight. "I tell you the truth," said he; and, in proof
of his words, (as if the fact were too wonderful to be believed without
proof,) he showed me a Rebel shell imbedded in the brick wall of a house
close by. (N. B. The battle-field was put into the bill.)
Gettysburg is the capital of Adams County: a town of about three
thousand souls,--or fifteen hundred, according to John Burns, who
assured me that half the population were Copperheads, and that they had
no souls. It is pleasantly situated on the swells of a fine undulating
country, drained by the headwaters of the Monocacy. It has no special
natural advantages,--owing its existence, probably, to the mere fact
that several important roads found it convenient to meet at this point,
to which accident also is due its historical renown. The circumstance
which made it a burg made it likewise a battle-field.
About the town itself there is nothing very interesting. It consists
chiefly of two-story houses of wood and brick, in dull rows, with
thresholds but little elevated above the street. Rarely a front yard or
blooming garden-plot relieves the dreary monotony. Occasionally there is
a three-story house, comfortable, no doubt and sufficiently expensive,
about which the one thing remarkable is the total absence of taste in
its construction. In this respect Gettysburg is but a fair sample of a
large class of American towns, the builders of which seem never once to
have been conscious that there exists such a thing as beauty.
John Burns, known as "the hero of Gettysburg," was almost the first
person whose acquaintance I made. He was sitting under the thick shade
of an English elm in front of the tavern. The landlord introduced him as
"the old man who took his gun and went into the first day's fight." He
rose to his feet and received me with sturdy politeness,--his evident
delight in the celebrity he enjoys twinkling through the veil of a
naturally modest demeanor.
"John will go with you and show you the different parts of the
battle-ground," said the landlord. "Will you, John?"
"Oh, yes, I'll go," said John, quite readily; and we set out at once.
A mile south of the town is Cemetery Hill, the head and front of an
important ridge, running two miles farther south to Round Top,--the
ridge held by General Meade's army during the great battles. The Rebels
attacked on three sides,--on the west, on the north, and on the east;
breaking their forces in vain upon this tremendous wedge, of which
Cemetery Hill may be considered the point. A portion of Ewell's Corps
had passed through the town several days before, and neglected to secure
that very commanding position. Was it mere accident, or something more,
which thus gave the key to the country into our hands, and led the
invaders, alarmed by Meade's vigorous pursuit, to fall back and fight
the decisive battle here?
With the old "hero" at my side pointing out the various points of
interest, I ascended Cemetery Hill. The view from the top is beautiful
and striking. On the north and east is spread a finely variegated farm
country; on the west, with woods and valleys and sunny slopes between,
rise the summits of the Blue Ridge.
It was a soft and peaceful summer day. There was scarce a sound to break
the stillness, save the shrill note of the locust, and the perpetual
click-click of the stone-cutters, at work upon the granite headstones of
the soldiers' cemetery. There was nothing to indicate to a stranger that
so tranquil a spot had ever been a scene of strife. We were walking in
the time-hallowed place of the dead, by whose side the martyr-soldiers,
who fought so bravely and so well on those terrible first days of July,
slept as sweetly and securely as they.
"It don't look here as it did after the battle," said John Burns. "Sad
work was made with the tombstones. The ground was all covered with dead
horses, and broken wagons, and pieces of shells, and battered muskets,
and everything of that kind, not to speak of the heaps of dead." But
now the tombstones have been replaced, the neat iron fences have been
mostly repaired, and scarcely a vestige of the fight remains. Only the
burial-places of the slain are there. _Thirty-five hundred and sixty
slaughtered Union soldiers lie on the field of Gettysburg._ This number
does not include those whose bodies have been claimed by friends and
removed.
The new cemetery, devoted to the patriot slain, and dedicated with
fitting ceremonies on the 19th of November, 1863, adjoins the old one.
In the centre is the spot reserved for the monument, the corner-stone of
which was laid on the 4th of July, 1865. The cemetery is semicircular,
in the form of an amphitheatre, except that the slope is reversed, the
monument occupying the highest place. The granite headstones resemble
rows of semicircular seats. Side by side, with two feet of ground
allotted to each, and with their heads towards the monument, rest the
three thousand five hundred and sixty. The name of each, when it could
be ascertained, together with the number of the company and regiment in
which he served, is lettered on the granite at his head. But the
barbarous practice of stripping such of our dead as fell into their
hands, in which the Rebels indulged here as elsewhere, rendered it
impossible to identify large numbers. The headstones of these are
lettered, "Unknown." At the time when I visited the cemetery, the
sections containing most of the unknown had not yet received their
headstones, and their resting-places were indicated by a forest of
stakes. I have seen few sadder sights.
The spectacle of so large a field crowded with the graves of the slain
brings home to the heart an overpowering sense of the horror and
wickedness of war. Yet, as I have said, not all our dead are here. None
of the Rebel dead are here. Not one of those who fell on other fields,
or died in hospitals and prisons in those States where the war was
chiefly waged,--not one out of those innumerable martyred hosts lies on
this pleasant hill. The bodies of once living and brave men, slowly
mouldering to dust in this sanctified soil, form but a small, a single
sheaf from that great recent harvest reaped by Death with the sickle of
war.
Once living and brave! How full of life, how full of unflinching courage
and fiery zeal, they marched up hither to fight the great fight, and to
give their lives! And each man had his history; each soldier resting
here had his interests, his loves, his darling hopes, the same as you or
I. All were laid down with his life. It was no trifle to him, it was as
great a thing to him as it would be to you, thus to be cut off from all
things dear in this world, and to drop at once into a vague eternity.
Grown accustomed to the waste of life through years of war, we learn to
think too lightly of such sacrifices. "So many killed,"--with that brief
sentence we glide over the unimaginably fearful fact, and pass on to
other details. We indulge in pious commonplaces,--"They have gone to a
better world, they have their reward," and the like. No doubt this is
true; if not, then life is a mockery, and hope a lie. But the future,
with all our faith, is vague and uncertain. It lies before us like one
of those unidentified heroes, hidden from sight, deep-buried,
mysterious, its headstone lettered "Unknown." Will it ever rise? Through
trouble, toils, and privations,--not insensible to danger, but braving
it,--these men--and not these only, but the uncounted thousands
represented by these--confronted, for their country's sake, that awful
uncertainty. Did they believe in your better world? Whether they did or
not, this world was a reality, and dear to them.
I looked into one of the trenches in which workmen were laying
foundations for the headstones, and saw the ends of the coffins
protruding. It was silent and dark down there. Side by side the soldiers
slept, as side by side they fought. I chose out one coffin from among
the rest, and thought of him whose dust it contained,--your brother and
mine, although we never knew him. I thought of him as a child, tenderly
reared--for this. I thought of his home, his heart-life:--
"Had he a father?
Had he a mother?
Had he a sister?
Had he a brother?
Or was there a nearer one
Still, and a dearer one
Yet, than all other?"
I could not know: in this world, none will ever know. He sleeps with the
undistinguishable multitude, and his headstone is lettered, "Unknown."
Eighteen loyal States are represented by the tenants of these graves.
New York has the greatest number,--upwards of eight hundred;
Pennsylvania comes next in order, having upwards of five hundred. Tall
men from Maine, young braves from Wisconsin, heroes from every state
between, met here to defend their country and their homes. Sons of
Massachusetts fought for Massachusetts on Pennsylvania soil. If they had
not fought, or if our armies had been annihilated there, the whole North
would have been at the mercy of Lee's victorious legions. As Cemetery
Hill was the pivot on which turned the fortunes of the battle, so
Gettysburg itself was the pivot on which turned the destiny of the
nation. Here the power of aggressive treason culminated; and from that
memorable Fourth of July when the Rebel invaders, beaten in the three
days' previous fight, stole away down the valleys and behind the
mountains on their ignominious retreat,--from that day, signalized also
by the fall of Vicksburg in the West, it waned and waned, until it was
swept from the earth.
Cemetery Hill should be the first visited by the tourist of the
battle-ground. Here a view of the entire field, and a clear
understanding of the military operations of the three days, are best
obtained. Looking north, away on your left lies Seminary Ridge, the
scene of the first day's fight, in which the gallant Reynolds fell, and
from which our troops were driven back in confusion through the town by
overwhelming numbers, in the afternoon. Farther south spread the
beautiful woods and vales that swarmed with Rebels on the second and
third day, and from which they made such desperate charges upon our
lines. On the right as you stand is Culp's Hill, the scene of Ewell's
furious, but futile, attempts to flank us there. You are in the focus of
a half-circle, from all points of which was poured in upon this now
silent hill such an artillery fire as has seldom been concentrated upon
one point of an open field in any of the great battles upon this planet.
From this spot extend your observations as you please.
Guided by the sturdy old man, I proceeded first to Culp's Hill,
following a line of breastworks into the woods. Here are seen some of
the soldiers' devices hastily adopted for defence. A rude embankment of
stakes and logs and stones, covered with earth, forms the principal
work; aside from which you meet with little private breastworks, as it
were, consisting of rocks heaped up by the trunk of a tree, or beside a
larger rock, or across a cleft in the rocks, where some sharpshooter
stood and exercised his skill at his ease.
The woods are of oak chiefly, but with a liberal sprinkling of chestnut,
black-walnut, hickory, and other common forest-trees. Very beautiful
they were that day, with their great, silent trunks, all so friendly,
their clear vistas and sun-spotted spaces. Beneath reposed huge, sleepy
ledges and boulders, their broad backs covered with lichens and old
moss. A more fitting spot for a picnic, one would say, than for a
battle.
Yet here remain more astonishing evidences of fierce fighting than
anywhere else about Gettysburg. The trees in certain localities are all
seamed, disfigured, and literally dying or dead from their wounds. The
marks of balls in some of the trunks are countless. Here are limbs, and
yonder are whole tree-tops, cut off by shells. Many of these trees have
been hacked for lead, and chips containing bullets have been carried
away for relics.
Past the foot of the hill runs Rock Creek, a muddy, sluggish stream,
"great for eels," said John Burns. Big boulders and blocks of stone lie
scattered along its bed. Its low shores are covered with thin grass,
shaded by the forest-trees. Plenty of Rebel knapsacks and haversacks lie
rotting upon the ground; and there are Rebel graves in the woods near
by. By these I was inclined to pause longer than John Burns thought it
worth the while. I felt a pity for these unhappy men which he could not
understand. To him they were dead Rebels, and nothing more; and he spoke
with great disgust of an effort which had been made by certain
"Copperheads" of the town to have all the buried Rebels, now scattered
about in the woods and fields, gathered together in a cemetery near that
dedicated to our own dead.
"Yet consider, my friend," I said, "though they were altogether in the
wrong, and their cause was infernal, these, too, were brave men; and
under different circumstances, with no better hearts than they had, they
might have been lying in honored graves up yonder, instead of being
buried in heaps, like dead cattle, down here."
Is there not a better future for these men also? The time will come when
we shall at least cease to hate them.
The cicada was singing, insects were humming in the air, crows were
cawing in the tree-tops, the sunshine slept on the boughs or nestled in
the beds of brown leaves on the ground,--all so pleasant and so pensive,
I could have passed the day there. But John reminded me that night was
approaching, and we returned to Gettysburg.
That evening I walked alone to Cemetery Hill to see the sun set behind
the Blue Ridge. A quiet prevailed there still more profound than during
the day. The stonecutters had finished their day's work and gone home.
The katydids were singing, and the shrill, sad chirp of the crickets
welcomed the cool shades. The sun went down, and the stars came out and
shone upon the graves,--the same stars which were no doubt shining even
then upon many a vacant home and mourning heart left lonely by the
husbands, the fathers, the dear brothers and sons, who fell at
Gettysburg.