Rumors Of The Telegraph

There is probably no better place in all this world for studying human naure than in a telegraph office, says Mr. Johnston, in a telegraphie volume just jublished, called "Lightning Flashes." You are brought in contact with so many different people, madeaconfldent of so many important transactions, meet so many peculiar people, and see o many strange messages passing over ihe wire, you feel as if from some oophole of retreat you were viewing he world shorn of its shams and its )retenses. As the operator always "followa copy," and the senders are often a little excited, very queer messages are someimes sent; for example this one: Cousin - Go for auntie. Fathei' is lying as soon as possible." The following message recently assed through the Chicago oflice: "I ent you one year ago to-night $4 87. If you have not had it long enough, lease keep it one year longer." To his delicate hint this answer was returned: "Had forgotton it, and ïoped you had. Let her run another rear." Operators occasionally encounter some very strange people in the way of customers. It is quite astonishing what crude ideas many even intelligent people have of the telegraph. A jlerman once brought a message to one of the branch offices in New York :or transmission. It was so indistinety written that the operator couldn't read it, and asked to be enlightened. Hans studied it carefully for some ;ime, but couldn't make it out either. Af ter a while, however, his face brightened up andhesaid: "Oh, well, just send it that way; he'll understand it!" A porter belonging to one of the city hotels one night handed the operator a message and a two dollar bill. The operator returned him the change, and was not a little surprised to see him walk off with both change and message. "Ain't you going to have the message sentï" he inquired. "Oh !" replied the porter, "I thought you had sent it. I supposed that all you had to do was to look at it!" A lady of color once asked what the tariff was to Portsmouth. "What Portsmouth ?" asked the operator. "Why, just Portsmouth." "What State is it in'i" "The United States." "Yes, but there are over thirty States ; whieh particular one ?" "I never heard of any Portsmouth but the one" Not long since, a man stopped at the little window of a branch office in the "Hub," the inhabitant evidently of a little sphere of his own, outside of which he was lost in the mazes of life. "Is this the telegraph office?" he asked hesitatingly. The young lady operator satisfied him of this fact. "I wantto telegraph," he proceeded, growing confldential, "I want to telejraph to my wife and teil her I missed the train." "You will have to write it on one of those blanks," said the operator, coolly entirely unimpressed by the (to sender) exciting event. "Oh! well, I guess you'd better write it. I can write" (evidently thinking it necessary to establish the fact before proceeding f arther), "but" (flatteringly) ■you can fix it up better than I can." "Whom is the message going to ?" asked the operator, as she armed herself with PP11 Utd blank. "To - my wife - in Providence," he replied, with the most sublime innocence. The operator looked at him doubtfully. "What is the address? To whom is the message going 't" The man eyed her with great astonshment. "I told you," he said, raising lis voice as if he thought her afflicted with deafness, "to my wife in Providence." "I am afraid," the operator replied, trying to speak ironically, "that the message might not be received if addressed in that way. Providence is a small place, I know, but it might possibly go to some other man's wife." Another young woman came into ;he Boston office above mentioned. The inevitable "I want to send a telegram," brought the operator to the window, when, af ter explaining all the whys and wherefores, and relating the family history for the past three generations she dictated the message while ;he operator wrote. When flnished, ;he young woman took the document, scrawled in the operator's "third best" ïandwriting - the one that "no one but ïerself could read" - examined it critcally, pointed disdainfully to a spiderike word, as sh e asked "What's that f' crossed a few t's, dotted a few i's, rounded some o's, and flnally flung down the message angrily, exclaiming to the wondering operator: "John never will be ableto read that; Ishall ïave to write it myself," and she did. A few months ago a darkey carne nto the office at Bainbridge, Georgia, and said he wanted to send an ■expatch" to his girl. "Very well," said he operator, reaching for a blank, 'what do you want to say to her ?" "Now that's cool," remarked the ebony customer. "I ain't gwine to teil vou what I want to say to her. I ain't no 'ooi, I ain't," and he put his quarter jack in his vest pocket and marched off.