Within the last few years Electric Telegraphy has received some developments which seem wonderful even by comparison with those other wonders which had before been achieved by this method of communication. In reality, all the marvels of electric telegraphy are involved, so to speak, in the great marvel of electricity itself, a phenomenon as yet utterly beyond the interpretation of physicists, though not more so than its fellow marvels, light and heat. We may, indeed, draw a comparison between some of the most wonderful results which have recently been achieved by the study of heat and light and those effected in the application of electricity to telegraphy. It is as startling to those unfamiliar with the characteristics of light, or rather with certain peculiarities resulting from these characteristics, to be told that an astronomer can tell whether there is water in the air of Mars or Venus, or iron vapour in the atmosphere of Aldebaran or Betelgeux, as it is to those unfamiliar with the characteristics of electricity, or with the results obtained in consequence of these characteristics, to be told that a written message can be copied by telegraph, a map or diagram reproduced, or, most wonderful of all, a musical air correctly repeated, or a verbal message made verbally audible. Telegraphic marvels such as these bear to the original marvel of mere telegraphic communication, somewhat the same relation which the marvels of spectroscopic analysis as applied to the celestial orbs bear to that older marvel, the telescopic scrutiny of those bodies. In each case, also, there lies at the back of all these marvels a greater marvel yet—electricity in the one case, light in the other.

I propose in this essay to sketch the principles on which some of the more recent wonders of telegraphic communication depend. I do not intend to describe at any length the actual details or construction of the various instruments employed. Precisely as the principles of spectroscopic analysis can be made clear to the general reader without the examination of the peculiarities of spectroscopic instruments, so can the methods and principles of telegraphic communication be understood without examining instrumental details. In fact, it may be questioned whether general explanations are not in such cases more useful than more detailed ones, seeing that these must of necessity be insufficient for a student who requires to know the subject practically in all its details, while they deter the general reader by technicalities in which he cannot be expected to take any interest. If it be asked, whether I myself, who undertake to explain the principles of certain methods of telegraphic communication, have examined practically the actual instrumental working of these methods, I answer frankly that I have not done so. As some sort of proof, however, that without such practical familiarity with working details the principles of the construction of instruments may be thoroughly understood, I may remind the reader (see p. 96) that the first spectroscopic battery I ever looked through—one in which the dispersive power before obtained in such instruments had been practically doubled—was of my own invention, constructed (with a slight mechanical modification) by Mr. Browning, and applied at once successfully to the study of the sun by Mr. Huggins, in whose observatory I saw through this instrument the solar spectrum extended to a length which, could it all have been seen at once, would have equalled many feet.27 On the other hand, it is possible to have a considerable practical experience of scientific instruments without sound knowledge of the principles of their construction; insomuch that instances have been known in which men who have effected important discoveries by the use of some scientific instrument, have afterwards obtained their first clear conception of the principles of its construction from a popular description.

It may be well to consider, though briefly, some of the methods of communication which were employed before the electric telegraph was invented. Some of the methods of electric telegraphy have their antitypes, so to speak, in methods of telegraphy used ages before the application of electricity. The earliest employment of telegraphy was probably in signalling the approach of invading armies by beacon fires. The use of this method must have been well known in the time of Jeremiah, since he warns the Benjamites “to set up a sign of fire in Beth-haccerem,” because “evil appeareth out of the north and great destruction.” Later, instead of the simple beacon fire, combinations were used. Thus, by an Act of the Scottish Parliament in 1455, the blazing of one bale indicated the probable approach of the English, two bales that they were coming indeed, and four bales blazing beside each other that they were in great force. The smoke of beacon fires served as signals by day, but not so effectively, except under very favourable atmospheric conditions.

Torches held in the hand, waved, depressed, and so forth, were anciently used in military signalling at night; while in the day-time boards of various figures in different positions indicated either different messages or different letters, as might be pre-arranged.

Hooke communicated to the Royal Society in 1684 a paper describing a method of “communicating one’s mind at great distances.” The letters were represented by various combinations of straight lines, which might be agreed upon previously if secrecy were desired, otherwise the same forms might represent constantly the same letters. With four straight planks any letter of this alphabet could be formed as wanted, and being then run out on a framework (resembling a gallows in Hooke’s picture), could be seen from a distant station. Two curved beams, combined in various ways, served for arbitrary signals.

Chappe, in 1793, devised an improvement on this in what was called the T telegraph. An upright post supported a cross-bar (the top of the T), at each end of which were the short dependent beams, making the figure a complete Roman capital T. The horizontal bar as first used could be worked by ropes within the telegraph-house, so as to be inclined either to right or left. It thus had three positions. Each dependent beam could be worked (also from within the house) so as to turn upwards, horizontally, or downwards (regarding the top bar of the T as horizontal), thus having also three positions. It is easily seen that, since each position of one short beam could be combined with each position of the other, the two together would present three times three arrangements, or nine in all; and as these nine could be given with the cross-bar in any one of its three positions, there were in all twenty-seven possible positions. M. Chappe used an alphabet of only sixteen letters, so that all messages could readily be communicated by this telegraph. For shorter distances, indeed, and in all later uses of Chappe’s telegraph, the short beams could be used in intermediate positions, by which 256 different signals could be formed. Such telegraphs were employed on a line beginning at the Louvre and proceeding by Montmartre to Lisle, by which communications were conveyed from the Committee of Public Welfare to the armies in the Low Countries. Telescopes were used at each station. BarrÈre stated, in an address to the Convention on August 17, 1794, that the news of the recapture of Lisle had been sent by this line of communication to Paris in one hour after the French troops had entered that city. Thus the message was conveyed at the rate of more than 120 miles per hour.

Various other devices were suggested and employed during the first half of the present century. The semaphores still used in railway signalling illustrate the general form which most of these methods assumed. An upright, with two arms, each capable of assuming six distinct positions (excluding the upright position), would give forty-eight different signals; thus each would give six signals alone, or twelve for the pair, and each of the six signals of one combined with each of the six signals of the other, would give thirty-six signals, making forty-eight in all. This number suffices to express the letters of the alphabet (twenty-five only are needed), the Arabic numerals, and thirteen arbitrary signals.

The progress of improvement in such methods of signalling promised to be rapid, before the invention of the electric telegraph, or rather, before it was shown how the principle of the electric telegraph could be put practically into operation. We have seen that they were capable of transmitting messages with considerable rapidity, more than twice as fast as we could now send a written message by express train. But they were rough and imperfect. They were all, also, exposed to one serious defect. In thick weather they became useless. Sometimes, at the very time when it was most important that messages should be quickly transmitted, fog interrupted the signalling. Sir J. Barrow relates that during the Peninsular War grave anxiety was occasioned for several hours by the interruption of a message from Plymouth, really intended to convey news of a victory. The words transmitted were, “Wellington defeated;” the message of which these words formed the beginning was: “Wellington defeated the French at,” etc. As Barrow remarks, if the message had run, “French defeated at,” etc., the interruption of the message would have been of less consequence. Although the employment of electricity as a means of communicating at a distance was suggested before the end of the last century, in fact, so far back as 1774, the idea has only been worked out during the last forty-two years. It is curious indeed to note that until the middle of the present century the word “telegraph,” which is now always understood as equivalent to electric telegraph, unless the contrary is expressed, was commonly understood to refer to semaphore signalling,28 unless the word “electric” were added.

The general principle underlying all systems of telegraphic communication by electricity is very commonly misunderstood. The idea seems to prevail that electricity can be sent out along a wire to any place where some suitable arrangement has been made to receive it. In one sense this is correct. But the fact that the electricity has to make a circuit, returning to the place from which it is transmitted, seems not generally understood. Yet, unless this is understood, the principle, even the possibility, of electric communication is not recognized.

Let us, at the outset, clearly understand the nature of electric communication.

In a variety of ways, a certain property called electricity can be excited in all bodies, but more readily in some than in others. This property presents itself in two forms, which are called positive and negative electricity, words which we may conveniently use, but which must not be regarded as representing any real knowledge of the distinction between these two kinds of electricity. In fact, let it be remembered throughout, that we do not in the least know what electricity is; we only know certain of the phenomena which it produces. Any body which has become charged with electricity, either positive or negative, will part with its charge to bodies in a neutral condition, or charged with the opposite electricity (negative or positive). But the transference is made much more readily to some substances than to others—so slowly, indeed, to some, that in ordinary experiments the transference may be regarded as not taking place at all. Substances of the former kind are called good conductors of electricity; those which receive the transfer of electricity less readily are said to be bad conductors; and those which scarcely receive it at all are called insulating substances. The reader must not confound the quality I am here speaking of with readiness to become charged with electricity. On the contrary, the bodies which most freely receive and transmit electricity are least readily charged with electricity, while insulating substances are readily electrified. Glass is an insulator, but if glass is briskly rubbed with silk it becomes charged (or rather, the part rubbed becomes charged) with positive electricity, formerly called vitreous electricity for this reason; and again, if wax or resin, which are both good insulators, be rubbed with cloth or flannel, the part rubbed becomes charged with negative, formerly called resinous, electricity.

Electricity, then, positive or negative, however generated, passes freely along conducting substances, but is stopped by an insulating body, just as light passes through transparent substances, but is stopped by an opaque body. Moreover, electricity may be made to pass to any distance along conducting bodies suitably insulated. Thus, it might seem that we have here the problem of distant communication solved. In fact, the first suggestion of the use of electricity in telegraphy was based on this property. When a charge of electricity has been obtained by the use of an ordinary electrical machine, this charge can be drawn off at a distant point, if a conducting channel properly insulated connects that point with the bodies (of whatever nature) which have been charged with electricity. In 1747, Dr. Watson exhibited electrical effects from the discharges of Leyden jars (vessels suitably constructed to receive and retain electricity) at a distance of two miles from the electrical machine. In 1774, Le Sage proposed that by means of wires the electricity developed by an electrical machine should be transmitted by insulated wires to a point where an electroscope, or instrument for indicating the presence of electricity, should, by its movements, mark the letters of the alphabet, one wire being provided for each letter. In 1798 BÉthencourt repeated Watson’s experiment, increasing the distance to twenty-seven miles, the extremities of his line of communication being at Madrid and Aranjuez. (Guillemin, by the way, in his “Applications of the Physical Forces,” passes over Watson’s experiment; in fact, throughout his chapters on the electric telegraph, the steam-engine, and other subjects, he seems desirous of conveying as far as possible the impression that all the great advances of modern science had their origin in Paris and its neighbourhood.)

From Watson’s time until 1823 attempts were made in this country and on the Continent to make the electrical machine serve as the means of telegraphic communication. All the familiar phenomena of the lecture-room have been suggested as signals. The motion of pith balls, the electric spark, the perforation of paper by the spark, the discharge of sparks on a fulminating pane (a glass sheet on which pieces of tinfoil are suitably arranged, so that sparks passing from one to another form various figures or devices), and other phenomena, were proposed and employed experimentally. But practically these methods were not effectual. The familiar phenomenon of the electric spark explains the cause of failure. The spark indicates the passage of electricity across an insulating medium—dry air—when a good conductor approaches within a certain distance of the charged body. The greater the charge of electricity, the greater is the distance over which the electricity will thus make its escape. Insulation, then, for many miles of wire, and still more for a complete system of communication such as we now have, was hopeless, so long as frictional electricity was employed, or considerable electrical intensity required.

We have now to consider how galvanic electricity, discovered in 1790, was rendered available for telegraphic communication. In the first place, let us consider what galvanic or voltaic electricity is.

I have said that electricity can be generated in many ways. It may be said, indeed, that every change in the condition of a substance, whether from mechanical causes, as, for instance, a blow, a series of small blows, friction, and so forth, or from change of temperature, moisture, and the like, or from the action of light, or from chemical processes, results in the development of more or less electricity.

When a plate of metal is placed in a vessel containing some acid (diluted) which acts chemically on the metal, this action generates negative electricity, which passes away as it is generated. But if a plate of a different metal, either not chemically affected by the acid or less affected than the former, be placed in the dilute acid, the two plates being only partially immersed and not in contact, then, when a wire is carried from one plate to the other, the excess of positive electricity in the plate least affected by the acid is conveyed to the other, or, in effect, discharged; the chemical action, however, continues, or rather is markedly increased, fresh electricity is generated, and the excess of positive electricity in the plate least affected is constantly discharged. Thus, along the wire connecting the two metals a current of electricity passes from the metal least affected to the metal most affected; a current of negative electricity passes in a contrary direction in the dilute acid.

I have spoken here of currents passing along the wire and in the acid, and shall have occasion hereafter to speak of the plate of metal least affected as the positive pole, this plate being regarded, in this case, as a source whence a current of positive electricity flows along the wire connection to the other plate, which is called the negative pole. But I must remind the reader that this is only a convenient way of expressing the fact that the wire assumes a certain condition when it connects two such plates, and is capable of producing certain effects. Whether in reality any process is taking place which can be justly compared to the flow of a current one way or the other, or whether a negative current flows along the circuit one way, while the positive current flows the other way, are questions still unanswered. We need not here enter into them, however. In fact, very little is known about these points. Nor need we consider here the various ways in which many pairs of plates such as I have described can be combined in many vessels of dilute acid to strengthen the current. Let it simply be noted that such a combination is called a battery; that when the extreme plates of opposite kinds are connected by a wire, a current of electricity passes along the wire from the extreme plate of that metal which is least affected, forming the positive pole, to the other extreme plate of that metal which is most affected and forms the negative pole. The metals commonly employed are zinc and copper, the former being the one most affected by the action of the dilute acid, usually sulphuric acid. But it must here be mentioned that the chemical process, affecting both metals, but one chiefly, would soon render a battery of the kind described useless; wherefore arrangements are made in various ways for maintaining the efficiency of the dilute acid and of the metallic plates, especially the copper: for the action of the acid on the zinc tends, otherwise, to form on the copper a deposit of zinc. I need not describe the various arrangements for forming what are called constant batteries, as Daniell’s, Grove’s, Bunsen’s, and others. Let it be understood that, instead of a current which would rapidly grow weaker and weaker, these batteries give a steady current for a considerable time. Without this, as will presently be seen, telegraphic communication would be impossible.

We have, then, in a galvanic battery a steady source of electricity. This electricity is of low intensity, incompetent to produce the more striking phenomena of frictional electricity. Let us, however, consider how it would operate at a distance.

The current will pass along any length of conducting substance properly insulated. Suppose, then, an insulated wire passes from the positive pole of a battery at a station A to a station B, and thence back to the negative pole at the station A. Then the current passes along it, and this can be indicated at B by some action such as electricity of low intensity can produce. If now the continuity of the wire be interrupted close by the positive pole at A, the current ceases and the action is no longer produced. The observer at B knows then that the continuity of the wire has been interrupted; he has been, in fact, signalled to that effect.

But, as I have said, the electrical phenomena which can be produced by the current along a wire connecting the positive and negative poles of a galvanic battery are not striking. They do not afford effective signals when the distance traversed is very great and the battery not exceptionally strong. Thus, at first, galvanic electricity was not more successful in practice than frictional electricity.

It was not until the effect of the galvanic current on the magnetic needle had been discovered that electricity became practically available in telegraphy.

Oersted discovered in 1820 that a magnetic needle poised horizontally is deflected when the galvanic current passes above it (parallel to the needle’s length) or below it. If the current passes above it, the north end of the needle turns towards the east when the current travels from north to south, but towards the west when the current travels from south to north; on the other hand, if the current passes below the needle, the north end turns towards the west when the current travels from south to north, and towards the east when the current travels from north to south. The deflection will be greater or less according to the power of the current. It would be very slight indeed in the case of a needle, however delicately poised, above or below which passed a wire conveying a galvanic current from a distant station. But the effect can be intensified, as follows:—

Suppose abcdef to be a part of the wire from A to B, passing above a delicately poised magnetic needle NS, along ab and then below the needle along cd, and then above again along ef and so to the station B. Let a current traverse the wire in the direction shown by the arrows. Then N, the north end of the needle, is deflected towards the east by the current passing along ab. But it is also deflected to the east by the current passing along cd; for this produces a deflection the reverse of that which would be produced by a current in the same direction above the needle—that is, in direction ba, and therefore the same as that produced by the current along ab. The current along ef also, of course, produces a deflection of the end N towards the east. All three parts, then, ab, cd, ef, conspire to increase the deflection of the end N towards the east. If the wire were twisted once again round NS, the deflection would be further increased; and finally, if the wire be coiled in the way shown in Fig.1, but with a great number of coils, the deflection of the north end towards the east, almost imperceptible without such coils, will become sufficiently obvious. If the direction of the current be changed, the end N will be correspondingly deflected towards the west.

The needle need not be suspended horizontally. If it hang vertically, that is, turn freely on a horizontal axis, and the coil be carried round it as above described, the deflection of the upper end will be to the right or to the left, according to the direction of the current. The needle actually seen, moreover, is not the one acted upon by the current. This needle is inside the coil; the needle seen turns on the same axis, which projects through the coil.

If, then, the observer at the station B have a magnetic needle suitably suspended, round which the wire from the battery at A has been coiled, he can tell by the movement of the needle whether a current is passing along the wire in one direction or in the other; while if the needle is at rest he knows that no current is passing.

Now suppose that P and N, Fig.2, are the positive and negative poles of a galvanic battery at A, and that a wire passes from P to the station B, where it is coiled round a needle suspended vertically at n, and thence passes to the negative pole N. Let the wire be interrupted at ab and also at cd. Then no current passes along the wire, and the needle n remains at rest in a vertical position. Now suppose the points ab connected by the wire ab, and at the same moment the points cd connected by the wire cd, then a current flows along P ab to B, as shown in Fig.2, circuiting the coil round the needle n and returning by dc to N. The upper end of the needle is deflected to the right while this current continues to flow; returning to rest when the connection is broken at ab and cd. Next, let cb and ad be simultaneously connected as shown by the cross-lines in Fig.3. (It will be understood that ad and bc do not touch each other where they cross.) The current will now flow from P along ad to B, circuiting round the needle n in a contrary direction to that in which it flowed in the former case, returning by bc to N. The upper end of the needle is deflected then to the left while the current continues to flow along this course.

I need not here describe the mechanical devices by which the connection at ab and cd can be instantly changed so that the current may flow either along ab and dc, as in Fig.2, circuiting the needle in one direction, or along ad and bc, as in Fig.3, circuiting the needle in the other direction. As I said at the outset, this paper is not intended to deal with details of construction, only to describe the general principles of telegraphic communication, and especially those points which have to be explained in order that recent inventions may be understood. The reader will see that nothing can be easier than so to arrange matters that, by turning a handle, either (1), ab and cd may be connected, or, (2), ad and cb, or, (3), both lines of communication interrupted. The mechanism for effecting this is called a commutator.

Two points remain, however, to be explained: First, A must be a receiving station as well as a transmitting station; secondly, the wire connecting B with N, in Figs. 2 and 3, can be dispensed with, for it is found that if at B the wire is carried down to a large metal plate placed some depth underground, while the wire at c is carried down to another plate similarly buried underground, the circuit is completed even better than along such a return wire as is shown in the figures. The earth either acts the part of a return wire, or else, by continually carrying off the electricity, allows the current to flow continuously along the single wire. We may compare the current carried along the complete wire circuit, to water circulating in a pipe extending continuously from a reservoir to a distance and back again to the reservoir. Water sucked up continuously at one end could be carried through the pipe so long as it was continuously returned to the reservoir at the other; but it could equally be carried through a pipe extending from that reservoir to some place where it could communicate with the open sea—the reservoir itself communicating with the open sea—an arrangement corresponding to that by which the return wire is dispensed with, and the current from the wire received into the earth.

The discovery that the return wire may be dispensed with was made by Steinheil in 1837.

The actual arrangement, then, is in essentials that represented in Fig.4.

A and B are the two stations; PN is the battery at A, P´ N´ the battery at B; P´ P´ are the positive poles, N´ N´, the negative poles. At n is the needle of station A, at n´ the needle of station B. When the handle of the commutator is in its mean position—which is supposed to be the case at station B—the points b´ d´ are connected with each other, but neither with a´ nor c´; no current, then, passes from B to A, but station B is in a condition to receive messages. (If b´ and d´ were not connected, of course no messages could be received, since the current from A would be stopped at b´—which does not mean that it would pass round n´ to b´, but that, the passage being stopped at b´, the current would not flow at all.) When (the commutator at B being in its mean position, or d´ b´ connected, and communication with c´ and a´ interrupted) the handle of the commutator at A is turned from its mean position in one direction, a and b are connected, as are c and d—as shown in the figure—while the connection between b and d is broken. Thus the current passes from P by a and b, round the needle n; thence to station B, round needle n´, and by b´ and d´, to the earth plate G´; and so along the earth to G, and by dc, to the negative pole N. The upper end of the needle of both stations is deflected to the right by the passage of the current in this direction. When the handle of the commutator at A is turned in the other direction, b and c are connected, as also a and d; the current from P passes along ad to the ground plate G, thence to G´, along d´ b´, round the needle n´, back by the wire to the station A, where, after circuiting the needle n in the same direction as the needle n´, it travels by b and c to the negative pole N. The upper end of the needle, at both stations, is deflected to the left by the passage of the current in this direction.

It is easily seen that, with two wires and one battery, two needles can be worked at both stations, either one moving alone, or the other alone, or both together; but for the two to move differently, two batteries must be used. The systems by which either the movements of a single needle, or of a pair of needles, may be made to indicate the various letters of the alphabet, numerals, and so on, need not here be described. They are of course altogether arbitrary, except only that the more frequent occurrence of certain letters, as e, t, a, renders it desirable that these should be represented by the simplest symbols (as by a single deflection to right or left), while letters which occur seldom may require several deflections.

One of the inventions to which the title of this paper relates can now be understood.

In the arrangement described, when a message is transmitted, the needle of the sender vibrates synchronously with the needle at the station to which the message is sent. Therefore, till that message is finished, none can be received at the transmitting station. In what is called duplex telegraphy, this state of things is altered, the needle at the sending station being left unaffected by the transmitted current, so as to be able to receive messages, and in self-recording systems to record them. This is done by dividing the current from the battery into two parts of equal efficiency, acting on the needle at the transmitting station in contrary directions, so that this needle remains unaffected, and ready to indicate signals from the distant station. The principle of this arrangement is indicated in Fig.5. Here abn represents the main wire of communication with the distant station, coiled round the needle of the transmitting station in one direction; the dotted lines indicate a finer short wire, coiled round the needle in a contrary direction. When a message is transmitted, the current along the main wire tends to deflect the needle at n in one direction, while the current along the auxiliary wire tends to deflect it in the other direction. If the thickness and length of the short wire are such as to make these two tendencies equal, the needle remains at rest, while a message is transmitted to the distant station along the main wire. In this state of things, if a current is sent from the distant station along the wire in the direction indicated by the dotted arrow, this current also circuits the auxiliary wire, but in the direction indicated by the arrows on the dotted curve, which is the same direction in which it circuits the main wire. Thus the needle is deflected, and a signal received. When the direction of the chief current at the transmitting station is reversed, so also is the direction of the artificial current, so that again the needle is balanced. Similarly, if the direction of the current from the distant station is reversed, so also is the direction in which this current traverses the auxiliary wire, so that again both effects conspire to deflect the needle. There is, however, another way in which an auxiliary wire may be made to work. It may be so arranged that, when a message is transmitted, the divided current flowing equally in opposite directions, the instrument at the sending station is not affected; but that when the operator at the distant station sends a current along the main wire, this neutralizes the current coming towards him, which current had before balanced the artificial current. The latter, being no longer counterbalanced, deflects the needle; so that, in point of fact, by this arrangement, the signal received at a station is produced by the artificial current at that station, though of course the real cause of the signal is the transmission of the neutralizing current from the distant station.

The great value of duplex telegraphy is manifest. Not only can messages be sent simultaneously in both directions along the wire—a circumstance which of itself would double the work which the wire is capable of doing—but all loss of time in arranging about the order of outward and homeward messages is prevented. The saving of time is especially important on long lines, and in submarine telegraphy. It is also here that the chief difficulties of duplex telegraphy have been encountered. The chief current and the artificial current must exactly balance each other. For this purpose the flow along each must be equal. In passing through the long wire, the current has to encounter a greater resistance than in traversing the short wire; to compensate for this difference, the short wire must be much finer than the long one. The longer the main wire, the more delicate is the task of effecting an exact balance. But in the case of submarine wires, another and a much more serious difficulty has to be overcome. A land wire is well insulated. A submarine wire is separated by but a relatively moderate thickness of gutta-percha from water, an excellent conductor, communicating directly with the earth, and is, moreover, surrounded by a protecting sheathing of iron wires, laid spirally round the core, within which lies the copper conductor. Such a cable, as Faraday long since showed, acts precisely as an enormous Leyden jar; or rather, Faraday showed that such a cable, without the wire sheathing, would act when submerged as a Leyden jar, the conducting wire acting as the interior metallic coating of such a jar, the gutta-percha as the glass of the jar (the insulating medium), and the water acting as the exterior metallic coating. Wheatstone showed further that such a cable, with a wire sheathing, would act as a Leyden jar, even though not submerged, the metal sheathing taking the part of the exterior coating of the jar. Now, regarding the cable thus as a condenser, we see that the transmission of a current along it may in effect be compared with the passage of a fluid along a pipe of considerable capacity, into which and from which it is conveyed by pipes of small capacity. There will be a retardation of the flow of water corresponding to the time necessary to fill up the large part of the pipe; the water may indeed begin to flow through as quickly as though there were no enlargement of the bore of the pipe, but the full flow from the further end will be delayed. Just so it is with a current transmitted through a submarine cable. The current travels instantly (or with the velocity of freest electrical transmission) along the entire line; but it does not attain a sufficient intensity to be recognized for some time, nor its full intensity till a still longer interval has elapsed. The more delicate the means of recognizing its flow, the more quickly is the signal received. The time intervals in question are not, indeed, very great. With Thomson’s mirror galvanometer, in which the slightest motion of the needle is indicated by a beam of light (reflected from a small mirror moving with the needle), the Atlantic cable conveys its signal from Valentia to Newfoundland in about one second, while with the less sensitive galvanometer before used the time would be rather more than two seconds.

Now, in duplex telegraphy the artificial current must be equal to the chief current in intensity all the time; so that, since in submarine telegraphy the current rises gradually to its full strength and as gradually subsides, the artificial current must do the same. Reverting to the illustration derived from the flow of water, if we had a small pipe the rapid flow through which was to carry as much water one way as the slow flow through a large pipe was to carry water the other way, then if the large pipe had a widening along one part of its long course the short pipe would require to have a similar widening along the corresponding part of its short course. And to make the illustration perfect, the widenings along the large pipe should be unequal in different parts of the pipe’s length; for the capacity of a submarine cable, regarded as a condenser, is different along different parts of its length. What is wanted, then, for a satisfactory system of duplex telegraphy in the case of submarine cables, is an artificial circuit which shall not only correspond as a whole to the long circuit, but shall reproduce at the corresponding parts of its own length all the varieties of capacity existing along various parts of the length of the submarine cable.

Several attempts have been made by electricians to accomplish this result. Let it be noticed that two points have to be considered: the intensity of the current’s action, which depends on the resistance it has to overcome in traversing the circuit; and the velocity of transmission, depending on the capacity of various parts of the circuit to condense or collect electricity. Varley, Stearn, and others have endeavoured by various combinations of condensers with resistance coils to meet these two requisites. But the action of artificial circuits thus arranged was not sufficiently uniform. Recently Mr. J. Muirhead, jun., has met the difficulty in the following way (I follow partially the account given in the Times of February 3, 1877, which the reader will now have no difficulty in understanding):—He has formed his second circuit by sheets of paper prepared with paraffin, and having upon one side a strip of tinfoil, wound to and fro to represent resistance. Through this the artificial current is conducted. On the other side is a sheet of tinfoil to represent the sheathing,29 and to correspond to the capacity of the wire. Each sheet of paper thus prepared may be made to represent precisely a given length of cable, having enough tinfoil on one side to furnish the resistance, and on the other to furnish the capacity. A sufficient number of such sheets would exactly represent the cable, and thus the artificial or non-signalling part of the current would be precisely equivalent to the signalling part, so far as its action on the needle at the transmitting station was concerned. “The new plan was first tried on a working scale,” says the Times, “on the line between Marseilles and Bona; but it has since been brought into operation from Marseilles to Malta, from Suez to Aden, and lastly, from Aden to Bombay. On a recent occasion when there was a break-down upon the Indo-European line, the duplex system rendered essential service, and maintained telegraphic communication which would otherwise have been most seriously interfered with.” The invention, we may well believe, “cannot fail to be highly profitable to the proprietors of submarine cables,” or to bring about “before long a material reduction in the cost of messages from places beyond the seas.”

The next marvel of telegraphy to be described is the transmission of actual facsimiles of writings or drawings. So far as strict sequence of subject-matter is concerned, I ought, perhaps, at this point, to show how duplex telegraphy has been surpassed by a recent invention, enabling three or four or more messages to be simultaneously transmitted telegraphically. But it will be more convenient to consider this wonderful advance after I have described the methods by which facsimiles of handwriting, etc., are transmitted. Hitherto we have considered the action of the electric current in deflecting a magnetic needle to right or left, a method of communication leaving no trace of its transmission. We have now to consider a method at once simpler in principle and affording means whereby a permanent record can be left of each message transmitted.

If the insulated wire is twisted in the form of a helix or coil round a bar of soft iron, the bar becomes magnetized while the current is passing. If the bar be bent into the horse-shoe form, as in Fig.6, where ACB represents the bar, abcdef the coil of insulated wire, the bar acts as a magnet while the current is passing along the coil, but ceases to do so as soon as the current is interrupted.30 If, then, we have a telegraphic wire from a distant station in electric connection with the wire abc, the part ef descending to an earth-plate, then, according as the operator at that distant station transmits or stops the current, the iron ACB is magnetized or demagnetized. The part C is commonly replaced by a flat piece of iron, as is supposed to be the case with the temporary magnets shown in Fig.7, where this flat piece is below the coils.

So far back as 1838 this property was applied by Morse in America in the recording instrument which bears his name, and is now (with slight modifications) in general use not only in America but on the Continent. The principle of this instrument is exceedingly simple. Its essential parts are shown in Fig.7; H is the handle, H b the lever of the manipulator at the station A. The manipulator is shown in the position for receiving a message from the station B along the wire W. The handle H´ of the manipulator at the station B is shown depressed, making connection at a´ with the wire from the battery N´ P´. Thus a current passes through the handle to c´, along the wire to c and through b to the coil of the temporary magnet M, after circling which it passes to the earth at e and so by E´ to the negative pole N´. The passage of this current magnetizes M, which draws down the armature m. Thus the lever l, pulled down on this side, presses upwards the pointed style s against a strip of paper p which is steadily rolled off from the wheel W so long as a message is being received. (The mechanism for this purpose is not indicated in Fig.7.) Thus, so long as the operator at B holds down the handle H´, the style s marks the moving strip of paper, the spring r, under the lever sl, drawing the style away so soon as the current ceases to flow and the magnet to act. If he simply depresses the handle for an instant, a dot is marked; if longer, a dash; and by various combinations of dots and dashes all the letters, numerals, etc., are indicated. When the operator at B has completed his message, the handle H´ being raised by the spring under it (to the position in which H is shown), a message can be received at B.

I have in the figure and description assumed that the current from either station acts directly on the magnet which works the recording style. Usually, in long-distance telegraphy, the current is too weak for this, and the magnet on which it acts is used only to complete the circuit of a local battery, the current from which does the real work of magnetizing M at A or M´ at B, as the case may be. A local battery thus employed is called a relay.

The Morse instrument will serve to illustrate the principle of the methods by which facsimiles are obtained. The details of construction are altogether different from those of the Morse instrument; they also vary greatly in different instruments, and are too complex to be conveniently described here. But the principle, which is the essential point, can be readily understood.

In working the Morse instrument, the operator at B depresses the handle H´. Suppose that this handle is kept depressed by a spring, and that a long strip of paper passing uniformly between the two points at a prevents contact. Then no current can pass. But if there is a hole in this paper, then when the hole reaches a the two metal points at a meet and the current passes. We have here the principle of the Bain telegraph. A long strip of paper is punched with round and long holes, corresponding to the dots and marks of a message by the Morse alphabet. As it passes between a metal wheel and a spring, both forming part of the circuit, it breaks the circuit until a hole allows the spring to touch the wheel, either for a short or longer time-interval, during which the current passes to the other station, where it sets a relay at work. In Bain’s system the message is received on a chemically prepared strip of paper, moving uniformly at the receiving station, and connected with the negative pole of the relay battery. When contact is made, the face of the paper is touched by a steel pointer connected with the positive pole, and the current which passes from the end of the pointer through the paper to the negative pole produces a blue mark on the chemically prepared paper.31

We see that by Bain’s arrangement a paper is marked with dots and lines, corresponding to round and elongated holes, in a ribbon of paper. It is only a step from this to the production of facsimiles of writings or drawings.

Suppose a sheet of paper so prepared as to be a conductor of electricity, and that a message is written on the paper with some non-conducting substance for ink. If that sheet were passed between the knobs at a (the handle H being pressed down by a spring), whilst simultaneously a sheet of Bain’s chemically prepared paper were passed athwart the steel pointer at the receiving station, there would be traced across the last-named paper a blue line, which would be broken at parts corresponding to those on the other paper where the non-conducting ink interrupted the current. Suppose the process repeated, each paper being slightly shifted so that the line traced across either would be parallel and very close to the former, but precisely corresponding as respects the position of its length. Then this line, also, on the recording paper will be broken at parts corresponding to those in which the line across the transmitting paper meets the writing. If line after line be drawn in this way till the entire breadth of the transmitting paper has been crossed by close parallel lines, the entire breadth of the receiving paper will be covered by closely marked blue lines except where the writing has broken the contact. Thus a negative facsimile of the writing will be found in the manner indicated in Figs. 8 and 9.32 In reality, in processes of this kind, the papers (unlike the ribbons on Bain’s telegraph) are not carried across in the way I have imagined, but are swept by successive strokes of a movable pointer, along which the current flows; but the principle is the same.

It is essential, in such a process as I have described, first, that the recording sheet should be carried athwart the pointer which conveys the marking current (or the pointer carried across the recording sheet) in precise accordance with the motion of the transmitting sheet athwart the wire or style which conveys the current to the long wire between the stations (or of this style across the transmitting sheet). The recording sheet and the transmitting sheet must also be shifted between each stroke by an equal amount. The latter point, is easily secured; the former is secured by causing the mechanism which gives the transmitting style its successive strokes to make and break circuit, by which a temporary magnet at the receiving station is magnetized and demagnetized; by the action of this magnet the recording pointer is caused to start on its motion athwart the receiving sheet, and moving uniformly it completes its thwart stroke at the same instant as the transmitting style.

Caselli’s pantelegraph admirably effects the transmission of facsimiles. The transmitting style is carried by the motion of a heavy pendulum in an arc of constant range over a cylindrical surface on which the paper containing the message, writing, or picture, is spread. As the swing of the pendulum begins, a similar pendulum at the receiving station begins its swing; the same break of circuit which (by demagnetizing a temporary magnet) releases one, releases the other also. The latter swings in an arc of precisely the same range, and carries a precisely similar style over a similar cylindrical surface on which is placed the prepared receiving paper. In fact, the same pendulum at either station is used for transmitting and for receiving facsimiles. Nay, not only so, but each pendulum, as it swings, serves in the work both of transmitting and recording facsimiles. As it swings one way, it travels along a line over each of two messages or drawings, while the other pendulum in its synchronous swing traces a corresponding line over each of two receiving sheets; and as it swings the other way, it traces a line on each of two receiving sheets, corresponding to the lines along which the transmitting style of the other is passing along two messages or drawings. Such, at least, is the way in which the instrument works in busy times. It can, of course, send a message, or two messages, without receiving any.33

In Caselli’s pantelegraph matters are so arranged that instead of a negative facsimile, like Fig.9, a true facsimile is obtained in all respects except that the letters and figures are made by closely set dark lines instead of being dark throughout as in the message. The transmitting paper is conducting and the ink non-conducting, as in Bakewell’s original arrangement; but instead of the conducting paper completing the circuit for the distant station, it completes a short home circuit (so to speak) along which the current travels without entering on the distant circuit When the non-conducting ink breaks the short circuit, the current travels in the long circuit through the recording pointer at the receiving station; and a mark is thus made corresponding to the inked part of the transmitting sheet instead of the blank part, as in the older plan.

The following passage from Guillemin’s “Application of the Physical Forces” indicates the effectiveness of Caselli’s pantelegraph not only as respects the character of the message it conveys, but as to rapidity of transmission. (I alter the measures from the metric to our usual system of notation.34) “Nothing is simpler than the writing of the pantelegraph. The message when written is placed on the surface of the transmitting cylinder. The clerk makes the warning signals, and then sets the pendulum going. The transmission of the message is accomplished automatically, without the clerk having any work to do, and consequently without [his] being obliged to acquire any special knowledge. Since two despatches may be sent at the same time—and since shorthand may be used—the rapidity of transmission may be considerable.” “The long pendulum of Caselli’s telegraph,” says M. Quet, “generally performs about forty oscillations a minute, and the styles trace forty broken lines, separated from each other by less than the hundredth part of an inch. In one minute the lines described by the style have ranged over a breadth of more than half an inch, and in twenty minutes of nearly 10½ inches. As we can give the lines a length of 4¼ inches, it follows that in twenty minutes Caselli’s apparatus furnishes the facsimile of the writing or drawing traced on a metallized plate 4¼ inches broad by 10½ inches long. For clearness of reproduction, the original writing must be very legible and in large characters.” “Since 1865 the line from Paris to Lyons and Marseilles has been open to the public for the transmission of messages by this truly marvellous system.” It will easily be seen that Caselli’s method is capable of many important uses besides the transmission of facsimiles of handwriting. For instance, by means of it a portrait of some person who is to be identified—whether fraudulent absconder, or escaped prisoner or lunatic, or wife who has eloped from her husband, or husband who has deserted his wife, or missing child, and so on—can be sent in a few minutes to a distant city where the missing person is likely to be. All that is necessary is that from a photograph or other portrait an artist employed for the purpose at the transmitting station should, in bold and heavy lines, sketch the lineaments of the missing person on one of the prepared sheets, as in Fig.10. The portrait at the receiving station will appear as in Fig.11, and if necessary an artist at this station can darken the lines or in other ways improve the picture without altering the likeness.

But now we must turn to the greatest marvel of all—the transmission of tones, tunes, and words by the electric wire.

The transmission of the rhythm of an air is of course a very simple matter. I have seen the following passage from “Lardner’s Museum of Science and Art,” 1859, quoted as describing an anticipation of the telephone, though in reality it only shows what every one who has heard a telegraphic indicator at work must have noticed, that the click of the instrument may be made to keep time with an air. “We were in the Hanover Street Office, when there was a pause in the business operations. Mr. M. Porter, of the office at Boston—the writer being at New York—asked what tune we would have? We replied, ‘Yankee Doodle,’ and to our surprise he immediately complied with our request. The instrument, a Morse one, commenced drumming the notes of the tune as perfectly and distinctly as a skilful drummer could have made them at the head of a regiment, and many will be astonished to hear that ‘Yankee Doodle’ can travel by lightning.... So perfectly and distinctly were the sounds of the tunes transmitted, that good instrumental performers could have no difficulty in keeping time with the instruments at this end of the wires.... That a pianist in London should execute a fantasia at Paris, Brussels, Berlin, and Vienna, at the same moment, and with the same spirit, expression, and precision as if the instruments at these distant places were under his fingers, is not only within the limits of practicability, but really presents no other difficulty than may arise from the expense of the performances. From what has just been stated, it is clear that the time of music has been already transmitted, and the production of the sounds does not offer any more difficulty than the printing of the letters of a despatch.” Unfortunately, Lardner omitted to describe how this easy task was to be achieved.

Reuss first in 1861 showed how a sound can be transmitted. At the sending station, according to his method, there is a box, into which, through a pipe in the side, the note to be transmitted is sounded. The box is open at the top, and across it, near the top, is stretched a membrane which vibrates synchronously with the aerial vibrations corresponding to the note. At the middle of the membrane, on its upper surface, is a small disc of metal, connected by a thin strip of copper with the positive pole of the battery at the transmitting station. The disc also, when the machine is about to be put in use, lightly touches a point on a metallic arm, along which (while this contact continues) the electric current passes to the wire communicating with the distant station. At that station the wire is carried in a coil round a straight rod of soft iron suspended horizontally in such a way as to be free to vibrate between two sounding-boards. After forming this coil, the wire which conveys the current passes to the earth-plate and so home. As already explained, while the current passes, the rod of iron is magnetized, but the rod loses its magnetization when the current ceases.

Now, when a note is sounded in the box at the transmitting station, the membrane vibrates, and at each vibration the metal disc is separated from the point which it lightly touches when at rest. Thus contact is broken at regular intervals, corresponding to the rate of vibration due to the note. Suppose, for instance, the note C is sounded; then there are 256 complete vibrations in a second, the electric current is therefore interrupted and renewed, and the bar of soft iron magnetized and demagnetized, 256 times in a second. Now, it had been discovered by Page and Henry that when a bar of iron is rapidly magnetized and demagnetized, it is put into vibrations synchronizing with the interruptions of the current, and therefore emits a note of the same tone as that which has been sounded into the transmitting box.

Professor Heisler, in his “Lehrbuch der technischen Physik,” 1866, wrote of Reuss’s telephone: “The instrument is still in its infancy; however, by the use of batteries of proper strength, it already transmits not only single musical tones, but even the most intricate melodies, sung at one end of the line, to the other, situated at a great distance, and makes them perceptible there with all desirable distinctness.” Dr. Van der Weyde, of New York, states that, after reading an account of Reuss’s telephone, he had two such instruments constructed, and exhibited them at the meeting of the Polytechnic Club of the American Institute. “The original sounds were produced at the furthest extremity of the large building (the Cooper Institute), totally out of hearing of the Association; and the receiving instrument, standing on the table in the lecture-room, produced, with a peculiar and rather nasal twang, the different tunes sung into the box at the other end of the line; not powerfully, it is true, but very distinctly and correctly. In the succeeding summer I improved the form of the box, so as to produce a more powerful vibration of the membrane. I also improved the receiving instrument by introducing several iron wires into the coil, so as to produce a stronger vibration. I submitted these, with some other improvements, to the meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and on that occasion (now seven years ago) expressed the opinion that the instrument contained the germ of a new method of working the electric telegraph, and would undoubtedly lead to further improvements in this branch of science.”

The telephonic successes recently achieved by Mr. Gray were in part anticipated by La Cour, of Copenhagen, whose method may be thus described: At the transmitting station a tuning-fork is set in vibration. At each vibration one of the prongs touches a fine strip of metal completing a circuit. At the receiving station the wire conveying the electric current is coiled round the prongs of another tuning-fork of the same tone, but without touching them. The intermittent current, corresponding as it does with the rate of vibration proper to the receiving fork, sets this fork in vibration; and in La Cour’s instrument the vibrations of the receiving fork were used to complete the circuit of a local battery. His object was not so much the production of tones as the use of the vibrations corresponding to different tones, to act on different receiving instruments. For only a fork corresponding to the sending fork could be set in vibration by the intermittent current resulting from the latter’s vibrations. So that, if there were several transmitting forks, each could send its own message at the same time, each receiving fork responding only to the vibrations of the corresponding transmitting fork. La Cour proposed, in fact, that his instrument should be used in combination with other methods of telegraphic communication. Thus, since the transmitting fork, whenever put in vibration, sets the local battery of the receiving station at work, it can be used to work a Morse instrument, or it could work an ordinary Wheatstone and Cook instrument, or it could be used for a pantelegraph. The same wire, when different forks are used, could work simultaneously several instruments at the receiving station. One special use indicated by La Cour was the adaptation of his system to the Caselli pantelegraph, whereby, instead of one style, a comb of styles might be carried over the transmitting and recording plates. It would be necessary, in all such applications of his method (though, strangely enough, La Cour’s description makes no mention of the point), that the vibrations of the transmitting fork should admit of being instantly stopped or “damped.”

Mr. Gray’s system is more directly telephonic, as aiming rather at the development of sound itself than at the transmission of messages by the vibrations corresponding to sound. A series of tuning-forks are used, which are set in separate vibration by fingering the notes of a key-board. The vibrations are transmitted to a receiving instrument consisting of a series of reeds, corresponding in note to the series of transmitting forks, each reed being enclosed in a sounding-box. These boxes vary in length from two feet to six inches, and are connected by two wooden bars, one of which carries an electro-magnet, round the coils of which pass the currents from the transmitting instrument. When a tuning-fork is set in vibration by the performer at the transmitting key-board, the electro-magnet is magnetized and demagnetized synchronously with the vibrations of the fork. Not only are vibrations thus imparted to the reed of corresponding note, but these are synchronously strengthened by thuds resulting from the lengthening of the iron when magnetized.

So far as its musical capabilities are concerned, Gray’s telephone can hardly be regarded as fulfilling all the hopes that have been expressed concerning telephonic music. “Dreaming enthusiasts of a prophetic turn of mind foretold,” we learn, “that a time would come when future Pattis would sing on a London stage to audiences in New York, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Shanghai, San Francisco, and Constantinople all at once.” But the account of the first concert given at a distance scarcely realizes these fond expectations. When “Home, Sweet Home,” played at Philadelphia, came floating through the air at the Steinway Hall, New York, “the sound was like that of a distant organ, rather faint, for a hard storm was in progress, and there was consequently a great leakage of the electric current, but quite clear and musical. The lower notes were the best, the higher being sometimes almost inaudible. ‘The Last Rose of Summer,’ ‘Com’ È gentil,’ and other melodies, followed, with more or less success. There was no attempt to play chords,” though three or four notes can be sounded together. It must be confessed that the rosy predictions of M. Strakosch (the impresario) “as to the future of this instrument seem rather exalted, and we are not likely as yet to lay on our music from a central reservoir as we lay on gas and water, though the experiment was certainly a very curious one.”

The importance of Mr. Gray’s, as of La Cour’s inventions, depends, however, far more on the way in which they increase the message-bearing capacity of telegraphy than on their power of conveying airs to a distance. At the Philadelphia Exhibition, Sir W. Thomson heard four messages sounded simultaneously by the Gray telephone. The Morse alphabet was used. I have mentioned that in that alphabet various combinations of dots and dashes are used to represent different letters; it is only necessary to substitute the short and long duration of a note for dots and dashes to have a similar sound alphabet. Suppose, now, four tuning-forks at the transmitting station, whose notes are Do Do, Mi, Sol, and Do Do, or say C, E, G, and C´, then by each of these forks a separate message may be transmitted, all the messages being carried simultaneously by the same line to separate sounding reeds (or forks, if preferred), and received by different clerks. With a suitable key-board, a single clerk could send the four messages simultaneously, striking chords instead of single notes, though considerable practice would be necessary to transform four verbal messages at once into the proper telephonic music, and some skill in fingering to give the proper duration to each note.

Lastly, we come to the greatest achievement of all, Professor Graham Bell’s vocal telephone. In the autumn of 1875 I had the pleasure of hearing from Professor Bell in the course of a ride—all too short—from Boston to Salem, Mass., an account of his instrument as then devised, and of his hopes as to future developments. These hopes have since been in great part fulfilled, but I venture to predict that we do not yet know all, or nearly all, that the vocal telephone, in Bell’s hands, is to achieve.

It ought to be mentioned at the outset that Bell claims to have demonstrated in 1873 (a year before La Cour) the possibility of transmitting several messages simultaneously by means of the Morse alphabet.

Bell’s original arrangement for vocal telephony was as follows:—At one station a drumhead of goldbeaters’ skin, about 2¾ inches in diameter, was placed in front of an electro-magnet. To the middle of the drumhead, on the side towards the magnet, was glued a circular piece of clockspring. A similar electro-magnet, drumhead, etc., were placed at the other station. When notes were sung or words spoken before one drumhead, the vibrations of the goldbeaters’ skin carried the small piece of clockspring vibratingly towards and from the electro-magnet, without producing actual contact. Now, the current which was passing along the coil round the electro-magnet changed in strength with each change of position of this small piece of metal. The more rapid the vibrations, and the greater their amplitude, the more rapid and the more intense were the changes in the power of the electric current. Thus, the electro-magnet at the other station underwent changes of power which were synchronous with, and proportionate to, those changes of power in the current which were produced by the changes of position of the vibrating piece of clockspring. Accordingly, the piece of clockspring at the receiving station, and with it the drumhead there, was caused by the electro-magnet to vibrate with the same rapidity and energy as the piece at the transmitting station. Therefore, as the drumhead at one station varied its vibrations in response to the sounds uttered in its neighbourhood, so the drumhead at the other station, varying its vibrations, emitted similar sounds. Later, the receiving drumhead was made unlike the transmitting one. Instead of a membrane carrying a small piece of metal, a thin and very flexible disc of sheet-iron, held in position by a screw, was used. This disc, set in vibration by the varying action of an electro-magnet, as in the older arrangement, uttered articulate sounds corresponding to those which, setting in motion the membrane at the transmitting station, caused the changes in the power of the electric current and in the action of the electro-magnet.

At the meeting of the British Association in 1876 Sir W. Thomson gave the following account of the performance of this instrument at the Philadelphia Exhibition:—“In the Canadian department” (for Professor Bell was not at the time an American citizen) “I heard ‘To be or not to be—there’s the rub,’ through the electric wire; but, scorning monosyllables, the electric articulation rose to higher flights, and gave me passages taken at random from the New York newspapers:—‘S.S. Cox has arrived’ (I failed to make out the ‘S.S. Cox’), ‘the City of New York,’ ‘Senator Morton,’ ‘the Senate has resolved to print a thousand extra copies,’ ‘the Americans in London have resolved to celebrate the coming Fourth of July.’ All this my own ears heard spoken to me with unmistakable distinctness by the thin circular disc armature of just such another little electro-magnet as this which I hold in my hand. The words were shouted with a clear and loud voice by my colleague judge, Professor Watson, at the far end of the line, holding his mouth close to a stretched membrane, carrying a piece of soft iron, which was thus made to perform in the neighbourhood of an electro-magnet, in circuit with the line, motions proportional to the sonorific motions of the air. This, the greatest by far of all the marvels of the electric telegraph, is due to a young countryman of our own, Mr. Graham Bell, of Edinburgh, and Montreal, and Boston, now about to become a naturalized citizen of the United States. Who can but admire the hardihood of invention which devised such very slight means to realize the mathematical conception that, if electricity is to convey all the delicacies of quality which distinguish articulate speech, the strength of its current must vary continuously, and as nearly as may be in simple proportion to the velocity of a particle of air engaged in constituting the sound?”

Since these words were spoken by one of the highest authorities in matters telegraphic, Professor Bell has introduced some important modifications in his apparatus. He now employs, not an electro-magnet, but a permanent magnet. That is to say, instead of using at each station such a bar of soft iron as is shown in Fig.6, which becomes a magnet while the electric current is passing through the coil surrounding it, he uses at each station a bar of iron permanently magnetized (or preferably a powerful magnet made of several horse-shoe bars—that is, a compound magnet), surrounded similarly by coils of wire. No battery is needed. Instead of a current through the coils magnetizing the iron, the iron already magnetized causes a current to traverse the coils whenever it acts, or rather whenever its action changes. If an armature were placed across its ends or poles, at the moment when it drew that armature to the poles by virtue of its magnetic power, a current would traverse the coils; but afterwards, so long as the armature remained there, there would be no current. If an armature placed near the poles were shifted rapidly in front of the poles, currents would traverse the coils, or be induced, their intensity depending on the strength of the magnet, the length of the coil, and the rapidity and range of the motions. In front of the poles of the magnet is a diaphragm of very flexible iron (or else some other flexible material bearing a small piece of iron on the surface nearest the poles). A mouthpiece to converge the sound upon this diaphragm substantially completes the apparatus at each station. Professor Bell thus describes the operation of the instrument:—“The motion of steel or iron in front of the poles of a magnet creates a current of electricity in coils surrounding the poles of the magnet, and the duration of this current of electricity coincides with the duration of the motion of the steel or iron moved or vibrated in the proximity of the magnet. When the human voice causes the diaphragm to vibrate, electrical undulations are induced in the coils around the magnets precisely similar to the undulations of the air produced by the voice. The coils are connected with the line wire, and the undulations induced in them travel through the wire, and, passing through the coils of another instrument of similar construction at the other end of the line, are again resolved into air undulations by the diaphragm of this (other) instrument.”

So perfectly are the sound undulations repeated—though the instrument has not yet assumed its final form—that not only has the lightest whisper uttered at one end of a line of 140 miles been distinctly heard at the other, but the speaker can be distinguished by his voice when he is known to the listener. So far as can be seen, there is every room to believe that before long Professor Bell’s grand invention will be perfected to such a degree that words uttered on the American side of the Atlantic will be heard distinctly after traversing 2000 miles under the Atlantic, at the European end of the submarine cable—so that Sir W. Thomson at Valentia could tell by the voice whether Graham Bell, or Cyrus Field, or his late colleague Professor Watson, were speaking to him from Newfoundland. Yet a single wave of those which toss in millions on the Atlantic, rolling in on the Irish strand, would utterly drown the voices thus made audible after passing beneath two thousand miles of ocean.

Here surely is the greatest of telegraphic achievements. Of all the marvels of telegraphy—and they are many—none are equal to, none seem even comparable with, this one. Strange truly is the history of the progress of research which has culminated in this noble triumph, wonderful the thought that from the study of the convulsive twitchings of a dead frog by Galvani, and of the quivering of delicately poised magnetic needles by AmpÈre, should gradually have arisen through successive developments a system of communication so perfect and so wonderful as telegraphy has already become, and promising yet greater marvels in the future.

The last paragraph had barely been written when news arrived of another form of telephone, surpassing Gray’s and La Cour’s in some respects as a conveyor of musical tones, but as yet unable to speak like Bell’s. It is the invention of Mr. Edison, an American electrician. He calls it the motograph. He discovered about six years ago the curious property on which the construction of the instrument depends. If a piece of paper moistened with certain chemical solutions is laid upon a metallic plate connected with the positive pole of a galvanic battery, and a platinum wire connected with the negative pole is dragged over the moistened paper, the wire slides over the paper like smooth iron over ice—the usual friction disappearing so long as the current is passing from the wire to the plate through the paper. At the receiving station of Mr. Edison’s motograph there is a resonating box, from one face of which extends a spring bearing a platinum point, which is pressed by the spring upon a tape of chemically prepared paper. This tape is steadily unwound, drawing by its friction the platinum point, and with it the face of the resonator, outwards. This slight strain on the face of the resonator continues so long as no current passes from the platinum point to the metallic drum over which the moistened tape is rolling. But so soon as a current passes, the friction immediately ceases, and the face of the resonator resumes its normal position. If then at the transmitting station there is a membrane or a very fine diaphragm (as in Reuss’s or Bell’s arrangement) which is set vibrating by a note of any given tone, the current, as in those arrangements, is transmitted and stopped at intervals corresponding to the tone, and the face of the resonating box is freed and pulled at the same intervals. Hence, it speaks the corresponding tone. The instrument appears to have the advantage over Gray’s in range. In telegraphic communication Gray’s telephone is limited to about one octave. Edison’s extends from the deepest bass notes to the highest notes of the human voice, which, when magnets are employed, are almost inaudible. But Edison’s motograph has yet to learn to speak.

Other telegraphic marvels might well find a place here. I might speak of the wonders of submarine telegraphy, and of the marvellous delicacy of the arrangements by which messages by the Atlantic Cable are read, and not only read, but made to record themselves. I might dwell, again, on the ingenious printing telegraph of Mr. Hughes, which sets up its own types, inks them, and prints them, or on the still more elaborate plan of the Chevalier Bonelli “for converting the telegraph stations into so many type-setting workshops.” But space would altogether fail me to deal properly with these and kindred marvels. There is, however, one application of telegraphy, especially interesting to the astronomer, about which I must say a few words: I mean, the employment of electricity as a regulator of time. Here again it is the principle of the system, rather than details of construction, which I propose to describe. Suppose we have a clock not only of excellent construction, but under astronomical surveillance, so that when it is a second or so in error it is set right again by the stars. Let the pendulum of this clock beat seconds; and at each beat let a galvanic current be made and broken. This may be done in many ways—thus the pendulum may at each swing tilt up a very light metallic hammer, which forms part of the circuit when down; or the end of the pendulum may be covered with some non-conducting substance which comes at each swing between two metallic springs in very light contact, separating them and so breaking circuit; or in many other ways the circuit may be broken. When the circuit is made, let the current travel along a wire which passes through a number of stations near or remote, traversing at each the coils of a temporary magnet. Then, at each swing of the pendulum of the regulating clock, each magnet is magnetized and demagnetized. Thus each, once in a second, draws to itself, and then releases its armature, which is thereupon pulled back by a spring. Let the armature, when drawn to the magnet, move a lever by which one tooth of a wheel is carried forward. Then the wheel is turned at the rate of one tooth per second. This wheel communicates motion to others in the usual way. In fact, we have at each station a clock driven, not by a weight or spring and with a pendulum which allows one tooth of an escapement wheel to pass at each swing, but by the distant regulating clock which turns a driving wheel at the rate of one tooth per second, that is, one tooth for each swing of the regulating clock’s pendulum. Each clock, then, keeps perfect time with the regulating clock. In astronomy, where it is often of the utmost importance to secure perfect synchronism of observation, or the power of noting the exact difference of time between observations made at distant stations, not only can the same clock thus keep time for two observers hundreds of miles apart, but each observer can record by the same arrangement the moment of the occurrence of some phenomenon. For if a tape be unwound automatically, as in the Morse instrument, it is easy so to arrange matters that every second’s beat of the pendulum records itself by a dot or short line on the tape, and that the observer can with a touch make (or break) contact at the instant of observation, and so a mark be made properly placed between two seconds’ marks—thus giving the precise time when the observation was made. Such applications, however, though exceedingly interesting to astronomers, are not among those in which the general public take chief interest. There was one occasion, however, when astronomical time-relations were connected in the most interesting manner with one of the greatest of all the marvels of telegraphy: I mean, when the Great Eastern in mid-ocean was supplied regularly with Greenwich time, and this so perfectly (and therefore with such perfect indication of her place in the Atlantic), that when it was calculated from the time-signals that the buoy left in open ocean to mark the place of the cut cable had been reached, and the captain was coming on deck with several officers to look for it, the buoy announced its presence by thumping the side of the great ship.