In strolling down Lothbury, in the City of London, the stranger suddenly sees, opposite to the dull dead wall of the Bank of England and pointing down an alley, the forefinger of a little black hand, under which are written the following words:—
“To the Central Telegraph Station.”
and accordingly, at the bottom of the small cul-de-sac there it stands, appropriately designated by its “Electric Clock.”
On entering the door of this establishment the visitor suddenly finds himself in a very handsome reception-hall, 53 feet long, 32 broad, and 45 feet high, illuminated from above by a skylight, which also gives light to three galleries, one above another, communicating with the various departments of the establishment.
Across this reception-hall, on the left of which are the secretary’s and accountant’s offices, there is at each side a long counter or table, that on the right being divided by green curtains into six desks, at which are to be seen the round, stout, slight, slim backs of persons of all shapes, and occasionally of both sexes, intently occupied in writing—unseen by each other—the important communications they are severally desirous to despatch. These messages are required to be written on a half-sheet of large-sized letter-paper, nearly one half of which is pre-occupied by a printed form, to be filled up by the name and address of the writer, as also of the person to whom his communication is addressed; the charge of the message, answer, porterage, or cab-hire; the date and hour at which the message is received; and lastly, the date and hour at which the operation of conveying it was commenced and finished by the person who works the electric instrument.
On glancing at these forms our first impression was that the space allotted for the letter or message was insufficient. It is, however, practically found that the Company’s charges, which amount, from, say London—
| To | Birmingham or Stafford | 3-9/10 d. | per word. |
| „ | Derby, Norwich, Nottingham, or Yarmouth | 4⅕ | „ |
| „ | Liverpool, Leeds, Manchester | 5⅒ | „ |
| „ | York | 5⅖ | „ |
| „ | Edinburgh | 7⅘ | „ |
| „ | Glasgow | 8⅖ | „ |
seriously admonish writers of all descriptions to be as brief as possible: indeed it is a very curious fact in natural philosophy that a lawyer under the Company’s galvanic influence is suddenly gifted with a description of clairvoyance which enables him to write on any subject in a laconic style, which in his chambers he would consider, and would most conscientiously assure his client, to be utterly impracticable!
As fast as these messages are written, they are, one after another, passed through a glass window to a small compartment, or rather department, on the ground-floor, termed “the Booking-office,” where, after having been briefly noted and marked with their distinctive numbers, they are by the same hand put into a small box, a bell is then rung, and at the same instant up they fly, through a sort of wooden chimney, to the attic regions of the building, to “the Instrument department;” and as we slowly followed them by a staircase, on every landing-place of which we involuntarily paused for a moment or two to reflect on the wonderful process we were about to witness, we own it was with admiration and surprise that, on entering the attic, we suddenly saw before us the simple materials with which such astonishing effects are produced.
In most of our manufactories it may but too truly be said that “the workmanship exceeds the materials.” Before a common coffin-nail can be made, the bowels of the earth must be ransacked, ores raised in Cornwall must be smelted in Wales by coals which have been excavated, raised, carted, recarted, &c. The amount of labour which has been expended in the fabrication of every trifling commodity exhibited in our shops is in a similar manner almost incalculable: indeed if our countrywomen did but know how many hours of unwholesome and unremitting application have been required, nay, how many constitutions have been ruined, in the fabrication of the light beautiful dresses and trinkets that adorn their persons, they would surely feel that their dance, delightful as it may have appeared to them, has been that of death to many of the poorest of their sex. Even the tedious details of the trifling volume we are writing prove that, while the public are luxuriously flying along the rails of only one arterial railway, an army of upwards of ten thousand workmen are labouring in a variety of ways for the management, protection, and maintenance of the way; and as we were not insensible of the usual necessity for these details, we certainly did expect to find that a proportionate amount of labour would be requisite for the simultaneous transmission of messages with extraordinary velocity to distances from one to upwards of four hundred miles. Simplicity, however, is the characteristic of science, and certainly the attics or garrets of the London Central Telegraph Station strikingly illustrate the truth of the axiom: indeed the whole of the Company’s stock in trade which we found therein consisted of four or five intelligent-looking boys, from fourteen to fifteen years of age, and eight little “instruments,” each about half the size of those which German women and Italian men carry on their backs through our streets; and as our advertising horse-dealers, in offering, or, as it is technically termed, in chaunting their cob to the notice of “a heavy timid gentleman,” invariably assure him “that a child can ride it,” so it may truly be said of the electric telegraph, which transmits its intelligence at the incomprehensible rate of 280,000 miles per second, that a boy can guide it!