"I am void of fear in this matter. Prepare thyself to die, for I swear by my infernal den that thou shalt go no further; here will I destroy thy soul."

And with that he threw a flaming dart at his breast, but Christian had a shield in his hand, with which he caught it, and so prevented the danger of that. Then did Christian draw, for he saw 'twas time to bestir him, and Apollyon as fast made at him, throwing darts as thick as hail; by the which, notwithstanding all that Christian could do to avoid it, Apollyon wounded him in his head, his hand and foot. This made Christian give a little back; Apollyon, therefore, followed his work amain, and Christian again took courage and resisted as manfully as he could. This sore combat lasted for above half a day, even till Christian was almost quite spent; for you must know that Christian, by reason of his wounds, must needs grow weaker and weaker.

Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began to gather up close to Christian, and, wrestling with him, gave him a dreadful fall, and with that Christian's sword flew out of his hand. Then said Apollyon,

"I am sure of thee now."

And with that he had almost pressed him to death, so that Christian began to despair of life. But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, thereby to make a full end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for his sword, and caught it, saying, "Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy! when I fall I shall rise," and with that gave him a deadly thrust, which made him give back as one that had received his mortal wound. Chris

tian, perceiving that, made at him again, saying, "Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through Him that loved us;'" and with that Apollyon spread forth his dragon's wings and sped him away, that Christian for a season saw him no more. In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had seen and heard as I did, what yelling and hideous roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight: he spake like a dragon. And, on the other side, what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart! I never saw him all the while give so much as one pleasant look till he perceived he had wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then, indeed, he did smile and look upward, but 'twas the dreadfullest sight that ever I

THE grave has just closed over the morfor ever associated with a series of achievements in the domain of discovery and invention the most wonderful our race has ever known-wonderful in the results accomplished; more wonderful still in the scientific revelations which preceded and agencies employed; most wonderful in the accompanied their development.

tal remains of one whose name will be

The electro-magnetic telegraph is the embodiment I might say the incarnation-of many centuries of thought, of many genera

tions of effort to elicit from Nature one of

her deepest mysteries. No one man, no one century, could have achieved it. It is the

* Remarks made at the Morse memorial meeting, held in the hall of the House of Representatives, April 16, 1872.

child of the human race-" the heir of all the ages. How wonderful were the steps

which led to its creation!

The very name of this telegraphic instrument bears record of its history-“ electric, magnetic," the first word from the bit of yellow amber whose qualities of attraction and repulsion were discovered by a Grecian philosopher twenty-four centuries ago, and the second from Magnesia, the village of Asia Minor where first was found the loadstone whose touch for ever turns the needle to the north. These were the earliest forms in which that subtle, all-pervading force revealed itself to men. In the childhood of the race men stood dumb in the presence of its more terrible manifestations. When it gleamed in the purple aurora or shot duskyred from the clouds, it was the eye-flash of an angry God before whom mortals quailed in helpless fear. When the electric light burned blue on the spear-points of the Roman legions, it was to them and their leaders a portent from the gods beckoning to victory. When the phosphorescent light which the sailors still call St. Elmo's fire hovered on the masts and spars of the Roman ship, it was Castor and Pollux, twin gods of the sea, guiding the mariner to port, or the beacon of an avenging god luring him to death.

When we consider the startling forms in which this element presents itself, it is not surprising that so many centuries elapsed before man dared to confront and question its awful mystery. And it was fitting that here, in this new, free world, the first answer came, revealing to our Franklin the great truth that the lightning of the sky and the electricity of the laboratory are one-that in the simple electric toy are

embodied all the mysteries of the thunderbolt.

Until near the beginning of the present century the only known method of producing electricity was by friction. But the discoveries of Galvani in 1789, and of Volta in 1800, resulted in the production of electricity by the chemical action of acids upon metals, and gave to the world the galvanic battery, the voltaic pile and the electric current. This was the first step in that path of modern discovery which led to the telegraph. But further discoveries were necessary to make the telegraph possible. The next great step was taken by Oersted, the Swedish professor who in 1819-20 made the discovery that the needle, when placed near the galvanic battery, was deflected at right angles to the electric current. In the four modest pages in which Oersted announced this discovery to the world the science of electro-magnetism was founded. As Franklin had exhibited the relation between lightning and the electric fluid, so Oersted exhibited the relation between magnetism and electricity. From 1820 to 1825 his discovery was further developed by Davy and Sturgeon of England, and Arago and Ampère of France. They found that by sending a current of electricity through a wire coiled around a piece of soft iron the iron became a magnet while the current was passing and ceased to be a magnet when the current was broken. This gave an intermittent power-a power to grapple and to let go at the will of the electrician. Ampère suggested that a telegraph was possible by applying this power to a needle. In 1825, Barlow of England made experiments to verify this suggestion. of the telegraph, and pronounced it imprac

ticable on the ground that the batteries then used would not send the fluid through even two hundred feet of wire without a sensible diminution of its force. In 1831, Joseph Henry, now secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, then a professor at Albany, New York, as the result of numerous experiments discovered a method by which he produced a battery of such intensity as to overcome the difficulty spoken of by Barlow in 1825. By means of this discovery he magnetized soft iron at a great distance from the battery, pointed out the fact that a telegraph was possible, and actually rang a bell by means of the electro-magnet acting on a long wire. This was the last step in the series of great discoveries which preceded the invention of the telegraph.

When these discoveries ended, the work of the inventor began. It was in 1832-the year that succeeded the last of these great discoveries-when Professor Morse first turned his thoughts to that work whose triumph is the triumph of his race. He had devoted twenty-two years of his manhood to the study and practice of art; he had sat at the feet of the great masters of Europe, and had already by his own works of art achieved a noble name; and he now turned to the grander work of interpreting to the world that subtle and mysterious element with which the thinkers of the human race had so long been occupied.

I cannot here recount the story of that long struggle through which he passed to the accomplishment of his great result how he struggled with poverty, with the vast difficulties of the subject itself, with the unfaith, the indifference and the contempt which almost everywhere confronted him; how at the very moment of his tri

umph he was on the verge of despair when in this very Capitol his project met the jeers of almost a majority of the national legislature. But when has despair yielded to such a triumph? When has such a morning risen on such a night? To all cavillers and doubters this instrument and its language are a triumphant answer. That chainless spirit which fills the immensity of space with its invisible. presence, which dwells in the blaze of the sun, follows the path of the farthest star and courses the depths of earth and sea-that mighty spirit has at last yielded to the human will. It has entered a body prepared for its dwelling; it has found a voice through which it speaks to the human ear; it has taken its place as the humble servant of man; and through all coming time its work will be associated with the name and fame of Samuel F. B. Morse.

Were there no other proof of the present value of his work, these alone would suffice

that throughout the world, whatever the language or the dialect of those who use it, the telegraph speaks a language whose first element is the alphabet of Morse; and in 1869, of the sixteen thousand telegraphic instruments used on the lines of Europe, thirteen thousand were of the pattern invented by him. The future of this great achievement can be measured by no known standards. Morse gave us the instrument and the alphabet; the world is only beginning to spell out the lesson whose meaning the future will read.

JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD.

The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver, But not the dark arch,

Or the black flowing river;
Mad from life's history,
Glad to death's mystery

Swift to be hurled—
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!

In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly

The rough river ran. Over the brink of it: Picture it, think of it,

Dissolute man! Lave in it, drink of it, Then, if you can.

Take her up tenderly, Lift her with careFashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair!

Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly,

Decently, kindly,
Smooth and compose them;
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly—

Dreadfully staring

Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity.

Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely,

Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity,

Into her rest,
Cross her hands humbly,
As if praying dumbly,
Over her breast,

Owning her weakness,
Her evil behavior,

And leaving, with meekness,
Her sins to her Saviour.

THOMAS HOOD.

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. S there for honest poverty

Is

Wha hangs his head, and a' that? The coward slave, we pass him by ;

We dare be poor for a' that. For a' that, and a' that,

Our toil's obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp :
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine:
A man's a man for a' that.

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that: Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that; For a' that, and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that; The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that.