An alphabet of dots and marks, a revolving ribbon of paper to receive this alphabet, a method of enclosing the wires in tubes which were to be buried underground, were the leading features of the device as first thought of.  The last conception was quickly followed by that of supporting the wires in the air, but Morse clung to his original fancy for burying them,—­a fancy which, it may here be said, is coming again into vogue in these latter days, so far as cities are concerned.

It is not meant to be implied that the idea of sending news by electricity was original with Morse.  Others had had it before him.  More than half a century before, Dr. Franklin and some friends had stretched a wire across the Schuylkill River and killed a turkey on the other side by electricity.  As they ate this turkey, it is quite possible that they imbibed with it the idea of making this marvellous agent do other work than killing fowl for dinner, and from that time on it is likely that many had speculated on the possibility of sending intelligence by wire.  Some experiments had been made, and with a certain degree of success, but time still waited for the hour and the man, and the hour and the man met in that fertile October day in the cabin of the Sully.

“If it can go ten miles without stopping, I can make it go round the world,” said Morse to his fellow-passengers, his imagination expanding in the ardor of his new idea.

“Well, captain,” he said, with a laugh, on leaving the ship, “should you hear of the telegraph one of these days as the wonder of the world, remember that the discovery was made on board the good ship Sully.”

The inventor, indeed, was possessed with his new conceptions, mad with an idea, as we may say, and glad to set foot once more on shore, that he might put his plans in practice.

This proved no easy task.  He was none too well provided with funds, and the need of making a living was the first necessity that presented itself to him.  He experimented as much as he was able, but three years passed before his efforts yielded a satisfactory result.  Then, with a circuit of seventeen hundred feet of wire, and a wooden clock, adapted by himself to suit his purpose, he managed to send a message from end to end of this wire.  It was not very legible.  He could make some sense of it.  His friends could not.  But all were much interested in the experiment.  Many persons witnessed these results, as shown in a large room of the New York University, in 1837.  They seemed wonderful; much was said about them; but nobody seemed to believe that the apparatus was more than a curious and unprofitable toy, and capitalists buttoned their pockets when the question of backing up this wild inventor’s fancy with money was broached.

But by this time Mr. Morse was a complete captive to his idea.  Body and soul he was its slave.  The question of daily fare became secondary; that of driving his idea over and through all obstacles became primary.  His business as an artist was neglected.  He fell into want, into almost abject poverty.  For twenty-four hours he went without food.  But not for a moment did he lose faith in his invention, or remit his efforts to find a capitalist with sufficient confidence in him to risk his money in it.