Part 8

There were torchlight processions, displays of fireworks, illuminations, etc., etc., together with addresses by distinguished men in honor of the event. I refer more particularly to Ogdensburg, N.Y., where I was then situated as operator and received the Queen’s message over the wire.

The rejoicing unfortunately was somewhat premature.

After working more or less imperfectly for three weeks, the cable gave out completely on the 1st of September after the transmission of 730 messages had been effected.

The cable operator at Heart’s Content, Newfoundland, named De Sauty, sent daily bulletins to the press holding out strong hopes for the restoration of the interrupted communication, but these hopes were not realized. The bulletins ceased and he disappeared and was never heard of again, at least by the public.

It is in allusion to this mysterious individual that Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote the following humorous lines, and in fine satirical vein thought that with a Latin tutor and a professor of chemistry the educated classes would understand it.

DE SAUTY.

An Electro-Chemical Eclogue.

_Professor._ _Blue Nose._

PROFESSOR.

“Tell me, O Provincial! speak ceruleo Nasal, Lives there one De Sauty, extant now among you Whispering Boanerges, son of silent thunder Holding talk with nations.

“Is there a De Sauty, ambulant on Tellus Bifed cleft-like mortals dormient in nightcap Having sight, smell, hearing, food receiving feature Three times daily patent.

“Breathes there such a being, O ceruleo Nasal Or is he a mythus, ancient name for humbug Such as Livy told about the wolf that wet-nursed Romulus and Remus.

“Was he born of woman, this alleged De Sauty, Or a living product of galvanic action Like the _Acarus_ bred in Crosse’s flint solution Speak thou Cyano Rhynal.”

BLUE NOSE.

“Many things thou askest, Jacknife-bearing stranger, Much conjecturing mortal, pork and treacle waster Pretermit thy whitling wheel thine earflap towards me Thou shalt hear them answered.

“When the charge galvanic tingled through the cable At the polar focus of the wire electric, Suddenly appeared, a white faced man among us, Called himself De Sauty.

“As the small opossum held in pouch maternal Grasps the nutrient organ whence the term mammalia, So the unknown stranger held the wire electric Sucking in the current.

“When the current strengthened, bloomed the pale-faced stranger, Took no food or victual, yet grew fat and rosy, And, from time to time in sharp articulation Said, ‘_All right_,’ De Sauty.

“From the lonely station passed the utterance spreading Through the pines and hemlocks to the grove of steeples, Till the land was filled with loud reverberations Of ‘_All right_,’ De Sauty.

“When the current slackened drooped the mystic stranger, Faded, Faded, Faded as the stream grew weaker Wasted to a shadow with a hartshorn odor Of disintegration.

“Drops of deliquescence glistened from his forehead Whitened round his feet the dust of efflorescence, Till one Monday morning when the flow suspended There was no De Sauty.

“Nothing but a cloud of elements organic C. O. H. N. Ferrum, Chor, Flu. Sil. Potassa calc. Sod. Phosh mag. Sulphur Mang.? Alumin caprum Such as man is made of.

“Born of stream galvanic with it he had perished There is no De Sauty. Now there is no current Give us a new cable, then again we’ll hear his cry, ‘_All right_,’ De Sauty.”

After a lapse of eight years another cable was laid in 1866 and communication across the Atlantic permanently established, but the mysterious De Sauty never appeared.

_Testing the Cable._

In the fall of 1856 the Montreal Telegraph Company laid a subaqueous cable across the St. Lawrence connecting Ogdensburg, N.Y., with its Canadian lines. Everything went well till the breaking up of the ice in the spring, when the American end of the cable was carried away from its moorings.

A man was sent from Montreal to effect the necessary repairs. When he arrived, I, then being in charge of the office there, decided to accompany him and render any assistance I could. A boat was hired to row over to the lighthouse where the cable terminated. The craft engaged was rather frail and shaky, with quite a heavy sea running. The Montreal man got safely seated, clutching the side of the boat with one hand and the testing instrument in the other. It was a cold day in March, a stiff north-wester was blowing. When all was ready the painter was untied, when I jumped, and in doing so lost my balance and went in headforemost. As I bobbed up the heels of my friend were just visible above the water. We succeeded in getting ashore safely, but the testing instrument had gone to the bottom, which we tried to recover, but failed, and the trip for the time was given up.

My companion in this adventure was the late Mr. Bowman, for many years the respected storekeeper for the Montreal Telegraph Company.

In meeting we often reverted to this episode in our telegraph experience and of our involuntary bath in the icy St. Lawrence.

_Cutting Down the Liberty Pole._

In 1857 the following amusing incident occurred and will be remembered by some of the older inhabitants of the pretty American city on the south bank of the St. Lawrence where I was then the agent of the Montreal Telegraph Company.

The villagers (it was a village at that period) had made every preparation for the due celebration of Independence Day with more than ordinary care, and all were looking forward to the event with eagerness, especially the more youthful element of the population. The first ceremony observed at sunrise was to raise old glory to the apex of the liberty pole, which stood at the corner of Ford and Water Streets, but, to the amazement of the party to whom this duty was assigned, there was no pole to be seen. On a close examination they found nothing remaining but the stump of the flag-staff. The question was: Who were the ruffians that dared to perpetuate the outrage? None other surely that some scoundrels from the opposite side of the river. In this surmise they were not far from the truth. After indulging in language more forcible than elegant, like practical Americans, they set to work, erected a temporary flag-staff and the ceremonies of the day were carried out without further incident. It was discovered to be a case of _lex talionis_ on the part of some young men from Prescott who rowed across the river during the night and performed this piece of vandalism in revenge for a foray made by some young fellows from Ogdensburg on the previous 24th of May (the Queen’s Birthday), when they removed the British flag flying on the old Windmill at Prescott, and substituted the Stars and Stripes. When this fact became known the Ogdensburg people had to acknowledge it was a case of tit for tat and served them right.

Fortunately these youthful pranks were condemned by all right thinking people on both sides of the border and were not repeated.

_The Burns Centenary._

On the 25th day of January, 1859, the birthday centenary of Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, was enthusiastically commemorated by his admirers on both sides of the Atlantic, and, in fact, everywhere throughout the Globe where Scotchmen were to the fore.

It was generally observed in the form of a banquet at which eminent literary and public men were the speakers who paid glowing tributes to the merits and genius of the peasant poet. Many of these addresses are still preserved.

In the town of Brockville, where I was located, a musical and literary entertainment was held in the Metropolitan Hall, the chairman being the Hon. James Morris. It was well attended by the leading people of the town. During the progress of the entertainment telegraphic congratulatory messages were interchanged between the chairmen of the different meetings then being held in Canada, and the United States, generally couched in lines and phrases from the poet’s works. The chairman gave an eloquent address; other speakers also contributed and the musical programme was excellent, but one gentleman had prepared with much care a paper on the Life and Character of Burns, which was admitted to be the gem of the evening by all who heard it, but unfortunately very few did.

The person referred to was a well-known M.D. who was afflicted with deafness; he spoke in a very low tone of voice, like many who suffer from a similar infirmity. The paper was long, the night was getting late; before he was through, the audience showed signs of weariness, which the chairman noticed, when he rose and begged the Doctor to kindly curtail his paper as the night was advancing and he had several other items on the programme but the chairman’s request was unheard and unconsciously ignored. The audience had to patiently endure the martyrdom to the end, a few meanwhile retiring in disgust.

When the end did come the people were so delighted at being relieved of the infliction that he was generously applauded, when with an amiable smile, and bowing right and left in acknowledgment, resumed his seat in happy ignorance that he had been a very tiresome bore indeed.

_The Prince of Wales at Brockville._

When in August, 1860, H. R. H. The Prince of Wales (now King Edward) and party had arranged to visit Brockville, the event was looked forward to with every manifestation of delight, and arrangements made to give them a hearty reception.

The route of the Royal party was from Ottawa, where a visit had been made, and recently named the capital city of Canada by Queen Victoria; there they embarked, sailing up the Ottawa River to Arnprior and thence by carriages to Almonte, and there entrained for Brockville. All the villages and hamlets passed were prettily decorated for the occasion, here and there evergreen arches were erected where the loyal denizens assembled and heartily cheered his Royal Highness in passing.

Brockville was reached about nine p.m. The Royal party was received by the Mayor, Warden of Leeds and Grenville and other officials. Addresses were presented and replied to by H.R.H. Carriages were in waiting to convey them to the steamer at the dock, by which they were to leave at daybreak for Kingston.

The Royal party were escorted from the railway station to the steamboat wharf by a guard of honour, followed by a procession of firemen and citizens carrying torches. All the buildings on the way were brightly illuminated, the church bells merrily ringing with a fine display of fireworks and the loud ovation of the people made it a memorable scene.

Instead of departing at daybreak, as had been arranged, it was about three in the afternoon before the steamer left. The detention was caused by difficulties which had arisen at Kingston. The Orange body there had erected an arch decorated with emblems of the order and which the Royal party would necessarily have to pass under. An address by the Orangemen was to be presented, to which the Duke of Newcastle was unable to assent. While the settlement of this was being arranged by telegraph wire, the Mayor, accompanied by many prominent citizens, waited on the Duke and invited the Royal party to a drive through the town, which was graciously accepted, thus giving the people an opportunity of seeing H. R. H. to better advantage. In appearance he was of medium height, pale complexion, modest in demeanor and dignified in manner.

He wore a tall white hat, a dark morning coat, light tweed trousers, patent leather boots and light tan coloured gloves. He bowed in acknowledgment to the cheers which greeted him and seemed to enjoy the drive.

It was said the Duke remarked he was not sorry at the detention as it had given the party the pleasure of seeing the pretty town by daylight.

There was a large entourage of pressmen reporting the Royal progress; one American correspondent when writing up his report asked me among other questions how many people were in the torchlight procession. I told him 500, that being the number of torches purchased by the town council. Oh! he said, I’ll make it 5,000, and sure enough he did and I sent this over the wire.

The whole population, men, women and children, at that period was a trifle over 4,000. This man afterwards became a famous correspondent during the American Civil War.

The fearful and wonderful reports received from the seat of war as to the extraordinary numbers of killed, wounded and captured, especially during the early stages of the trouble were something incredible; the experience narrated showed the need of a large discount being made.

The carriage the Prince of Wales drove through Brockville, and owned by a private gentlemen until his death, is now, or was until lately, doing duty as a public conveyance.

Should this meet the eye of some wealthy American, it might be a good thing for the cabby.

_The Trent Affair._

It was on November 8, 1861, that Admiral Wilkes, in command of the United States frigate _San Jacinto_ intercepted the British R. M. Steamer _Trent_ on her way from the West Indies to England and forcibly removed therefrom the two confederate States Commissioners Mason and Slidell. When the outrage became known there was a universal burst of indignation felt at the affront in Great Britain and all the British possessions. Every one believed that unless the men were given up and the act disavowed war between the two countries was inevitable. A large military contingent was despatched from England on the Steamship _Persia_ which arrived at Rimouski on Christmas day, Dec. 25, 1861. A Queen’s messenger was sent to Washington bearing an ultimatum from the British Government demanding that the men be at once released.

The American Government were in a dilemma. Several members of the Cabinet were in favor of resisting this demand, but President Lincoln, with his characteristic common sense said “One war at a time, gentlemen, one war at a time,” and the commissioners were surrendered and transferred to a British man-of-war at New York on January 1st, 1862, and _amende honorable_ made.

While the negotiations between the American and British Governments were in progress, the government and people of Canada were watching the trend of events with the keenest interest, and preparations were made for possible eventualities, flank companies at the respective military districts were ordered to prepare for active service.

When this order came by telegraph to the colonel of Brockville District, I delivered it personally and took occasion to inform him that if he would give me a commission in the company going on active service I was prepared to join at a moment’s notice. This request pleased the veteran (he was out in the rebellion) giving me a hearty grip. “You’re the right sort. I accept your services and shall have a commission for you within a week.”

A few days after I was much gratified when I received a large envelope containing my promised commission, the same being initialled by the Hon. James Morris, the speaker of the Legislative Council and resident of Brockville; a short time thereafter while visiting his home he entered the telegraph office to send a message. I took this opportunity of thanking him for the commission he sent me. He glared at me for a second or two and said, “The commission is not for you; it is for John Murray the butcher.” “Oh! indeed, I beg pardon. I was under the impression it was for J. M.---- gentleman.” I did not get this off in a resentful mood; it was merely repeating the language of the document. Of course I handed it over to my namesake, the rightful owner, a very respectable man of the town, when my military ambitions came to an end.

The services of the flank companies were not required after the _causes belle_ had been removed and Canada once more resumed her usual peace footing.

_The Old Soldier and the Parson._

About forty odd years ago when I was acting in the capacity of telegraph, express and steamship agent at Brockville, the following incident happened, which may be worth recalling: One day an old gentleman entered the office and desired me to furnish a steamship ticket to Liverpool. He informed me he was on his way to revisit his native land which he had not seen for many years. He was in the army previous to settling in one of the back townships. Although well on in years he looked hale and hearty, straight as an arrow and a remarkably handsome old fellow.

After completing his purchase and about to depart, he observed a pair of Fairbanks scales and requested me to weigh him, as he would like to see whether he lost or gained on the voyage. Whilst occupied in this, another old gentleman walked in attentively watching the operation; he also requested me to do a similar favor for him. He proved very much lighter and somewhat disappointed, and remarked: “Well, you are heavier than I, but I think I can beat you in length of years.” “How old are you?” brusquely querried the old soldier. “I am 84,” looking triumphantly at his questioner. “My young friend I am 85. I am heavier than you, older than you and (whispering in his ear) can look at the girls yet!”

Singular enough, the name of the latter was Mr. Young, the former the Rev. Wm. Smart, a well-known and respected clergyman, whose chief weakness was a certain vanity in his length of years, coupled with activity and good health on which he greatly prided himself. He was therefore, considerably humiliated at being thus so badly taken down and his dignity ruffled by the above remark.

_The Fenian Scare._

When in the summer of 1866 the Fenians invaded Canada and encountered the Canadian militia at Ridgeway, considerable alarm was felt all along the frontier. Cornwall, Prescott, Brockville and Kingston were strengthened with bodies of militia as being probable points of invasion.

For a time the Government took possession of the telegraph lines until all danger had passed.

Telegraph offices were kept open day and night by orders from Ottawa; this continued in force for several weeks. I was then at Brockville and found the long hours very irksome. No one believed in the likelihood of an attack here, but one night this belief was rather disturbed when a communication was received by the officer in command warning him to be on the alert as a body of Fenians had seized a steamer at Clayton, on the American side of the river, with the probability of attacking Brockville or Prescott.

Very soon the sound of the bugle was heard and the men formed in readiness to meet the enemy. They had been drilling for several weeks and were in splendid fighting trim, and under the command of an experienced officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Atcherley, D.A.G., who had seen service in the Crimea and India, in whom officers and men had the utmost confidence. A home guard was hastily organized to watch the river front and give timely notice should any suspicious craft appear. During the prevailing excitement some one rang the town alarm bell, when the citizens were aroused from their beds, and the streets were soon crowded with men, women and children eager to learn what was the cause of the alarm. Many amusing scenes were witnessed. A few timid souls procured teams, loaded them with household effects, and with their families started for safer quarters in the back country. Many old veterans of the Canadian rebellion were seen carrying weapons of defense, but appeared more likely to be offensive only to themselves.

One aged gentleman carried a sword with a rope in lieu of belt and minus the scabbard; he refused to waste time looking for such appendages at such a time; the naked sword was good enough for him. The night was dark and ominous; every one awaited coming events with anxiety and more or less nervousness, and dawn began to appear, but no signs of the enemy. Meanwhile some of the home guard got tired waiting for the Fenians, who declined to come, and they one by one segregated to enjoy the comforts of their own firesides or seek repose on their downy beds at home. In this action the officer commanding the home guard preceded his men and was the first to retire, but one of their number a sturdy Scot, having been placed on an eminence favorable to scan the movements of the craft on the river, he held on to his post, however. His family hunted him up and had much difficulty on prevailing upon him to come home.

The only fatality that occurred was the death of an old lady, who, nearing the end, collapsed suddenly when hearing the alarm bell and told the reason for its being rung.

Shortly after the Fenian fiasco became a thing of the past.

_Professor Morse’s Valedictory Message._

In 1870, when Mr. Morse had entered his eightieth year, it was felt by many telegraph men that some fitting recognition should be paid to the illustrious inventor before the close of his valuable life, which was now nearing the end.

In accordance with this general feeling action was taken and a committee formed, when after much thought had been given to the subject, it was at last decided the most appropriate memorial in its opinion would be to erect a statue and place it in Central Park, New York. This suggestion had the general approval of the telegraph fraternity. To carry this out subscriptions were invited; one of the first to contribute to the fund was Mr. John Horn, of Montreal, then in New York, and to complete the sum required Sir Hugh Allan was appealed to and promptly sent the desired amount.

The ceremony of unveiling the statue took place on June 10, 1871. Representative telegraph men from every State and territory, as well as the Dominion of Canada, were present, including many civic and State officials, and addresses were delivered by Governor Hoffman, Mayor Hall, the venerable poet, William Cullen Bryant and others.

In the evening a public reception of the delegates was held at the Academy of Music, which was filled to overflowing, the Hon. William Orton, President of the Western Union, presiding, by whom the delegates were cordially welcomed. On the platform was a table and a set of telegraph instruments connected with the main office of the Western Union Company. Punctually at 9 p.m., as previously arranged, Professor Morse, who was present, indited the following valedictory:

“Greeting and thanks to the telegraph fraternity throughout the world. Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace and good-will to men.”

S. F. B. MORSE.

The message was sent over the wires by a young lady operator and Mr. Morse transmitted the signature.

The writer was at Brockville, Ont., at the time and received this now historic message simultaneously with hundreds, perhaps thousands of others.

Mr. Morse did not long survive this dramatic event. It was his last public appearance but one previous to his death.

_O. S. Wood, Esq._

One of the most notable telegraph men in America, the first pupil of Professor Morse and the first to inaugurate an electric telegraph system in Canada on an extensive scale.

Born in 1817, near Ithaca, N.Y., after a grammar school and collegiate course, he studied and became a civil engineer, and was for some time employed in that capacity by the New York State Government.

When Mr. Morse was exhibiting his telegraph at Washington, in 1844, Mr. Wood was induced to join the inventor, and became his associate in constructing and working the experimental line between Washington and Baltimore, and the first to operate the line when opened for public business and afterwards engaged in constructing telegraph lines in other directions.