"I once began to learn to telegraph, and knew the alphabet, and could write ever so many words, but I gave it up."
Too bad they all give it up. I've heard the remark in my time on an average of about once a week for twenty-five years, from educated men, too, and have been just that often made sick at the stomach. Any school boy can learn the alphabet from his book on philosophy; so he can learn the alphabet of the Greek, but it requires close application for months to make a mere "operator," and it usually takes years to make a telegrapher, while those who have studied the art and science of electricity longest say they know the least of its wonderful possibilities.
The very first act on my part was to question in this way the operator who was on duty the next morning. I had proposed to the station-master to sweep out for him, and endeavored, in a general way, to make myself a man of all work about the place, so that I might be allowed to remain there instead of being put on the road as a brakeman.
With a broom in my hand, I observed to the operator, who was at that moment leaning over and peering under his desk cleaning his local battery, or rather bossing an old negro who was down on his knees trying to do this work for him: "I came near being an operator once."
I had not time to say that I had learned the alphabet when the young man straightened himself up and pleasantly observed: "The _hell_ you did."
I turned my back and began sweeping vigorously, and, if the young man had seen my face, it would have shown a suppressed laugh instead of anger.
That remark fixed him. I know that he for one would never suspect me of being an operator. As the old colored uncle was not doing his work properly at the local, I volunteered to help; and, taking hold of the wires, I handled them in a clumsy way that was amusing to myself, and, under his direction, for my willingness to aid, I was told that I should have the nasty job of cleaning battery every day after that.
The first day passed without anything of especial interest occurring until about sundown, when a message which I had not heard was received for "headquarters."
It was the duty of one of the mounted orderlies to deliver all messages, but at that time there did not happen to be any orderly about, and, noting their hunt for one, I volunteered to perform the duty and on foot. My services were accepted without question, and I became the bearer of a dispatch to the Rebel headquarters.