With but few exceptions the Morse code is the one almost universally used the world over. As it is used in Europe, it is slightly changed from our American code, but they all depend upon dots, dashes, and spaces, related in different combinations, for the different letters. Notwithstanding its universal use it is not free from serious difficulties in transmission unless it is repeated back to the sender for correction; and then in some cases it is impossible to be sure, owing to difficulties of punctuation and capitalizing, and the further difficulty of running the signals together, caused, it may be, by faulty transmission, induced currents from other wires, "swinging crosses" or atmospheric electricity. Sometimes it is a psychological difficulty in the mind of the receiving-operator. The telegraph companies have to suffer damages from all these and many other unforeseen causes.

Prescott tells some curious things that happened in the early days, growing out of the peculiarities of the receiving-operator. At one time he was reporting by telegraph one of Webster's speeches made at Albany in 1852 in which there were many pithy interrogative sentences, and he was desirous of having the interrogation-points appear. So to make sure, whenever he wished an interrogation-point he said "question" at the end of almost every sentence. Next day he was horrified on reading the speech to see the ends of the sentences bristling with the word "question."

Some time back in the fifties a gentleman in Boston telegraphed to a house in New York to "forward sample forks by express." The message when received by the New York merchant read: "Forward sample for K. S. by express." The New York merchant did not know who K. S. was, nor did he gather from the dispatch what kind of sample he wanted. So he went to the telegraph office to have the matter cleared up. The Boston operator repeated the message, saying "sample forks." "That's the way I received it and so delivered it—sample for K. S.," said New York. "But," says Boston, "I did not say for K. S.; I said f-o-r-k-s." New York had read it wrong in the start and could not get it any other way. "What a fool that Boston fellow is. He says he did not say for K. S., but for K. S." Boston had to resort to the United States mail before the mystery was solved.

Curiously enough, the old method of recording the dots and dashes on the paper strip was not so reliable as the present mode of reading by sound. A man can put his individuality to some extent into a sounder, and when one becomes used to his style it is much easier to read him accurately by sound than by the paper impressions. Some people never could learn to read either by paper or sound. An instance of this kind is given of a middle-aged man who was employed by a railroad company as depot master and telegraph operator, in the old days of the paper strip. One day he rushed out and hailed the conductor of a train that had just pulled into the station, and told him that —— train had broken both driving-wheels and was badly smashed up. The conductor could read the mystic symbols, so he took the tape and deciphered the dispatch as follows: "Ask the conductor of the Boston train to examine carefully the connecting-rods of both driving-wheels, and if not in good condition to await orders." It is further related of this same operator that when he got into real difficulty with his "tape" he used to run over to the regular commercial office to have his messages translated. One day he rushed into his neighbor's office trailing the tape behind him and saying: "I am sure an awful accident has happened by the way the message was rattled off." A playful dog had torn off a large part of the strip as it trailed along, so only a part was left. It read, "Good morning, Uncle Ben. When are you——" The dog had swallowed the balance of the dispatch.

Sometimes the Morse code is not only funny but disastrous. A gentleman wanted to borrow money of some capitalists who, not knowing his financial standing, telegraphed to a banker who they knew could post them. They received an answer, "Note good for large amount." The gentleman borrowed a "large amount," but afterward when it came to be investigated it was found that the dispatch was originally written "not," instead of "note," which made "all the difference in the world."

It has been stated that any one of the five senses may be called into service to interpret the Morse code into words and ideas. A story is told by Mr. Prescott that he says is true, as he knew the party. A friend of his, by name Langenzunge, who knew the Morse code, had served under General Taylor (who at this time was President) at Palo Alto, in Mexico. The general had just promised him an office; soon after he left Washington for the west over the Baltimore and Ohio on a freight train; the President was taken seriously ill, and his friend hearing of it was troubled not only because he loved the old general, but on account of the change in his own prospects. The train stopped somewhere on the Potomac at midnight and remained there for four hours. Uneasy and sad, he wandered down the track and climbed a pole, cut the wire and placed the ends each side of his tongue and tasted out the fatal message—"Died at half-past ten." The shock (not the electric) was so great that he almost fell from the pole.

What a situation! A man climbs a pole at midnight miles from the sick friend he loves, puts his tongue to inanimate wire, and is told in concrete language—through the sense of taste—that his friend is dead. This is only one of the many, many wonderful episodes of the telegraph.