y intelligence cannot
be transmitted instantaneously by electricity."

The company broke up, after a while, but Morse, filled with his great
idea, went on deck, and at the end of an hour had jotted down in his
notebook the first skeleton of the "Morse alphabet." Before he reached
New York, he had made drawings and specifications of his invention,
which he seems to have grasped clearly and completely from the first,
although its details were worked out only by laborious thought. It was
necessary for him to earn a living, and not until three years later was
the first rude instrument completed. Two years more, and he had a short
line in operation, but it was looked upon as a scientific toy
constructed by an unfortunate dreamer. Finally, in 1838, Morse appeared
before Congress, exhibited his invention and asked aid to construct an
experimental line between Washington and Baltimore. He was laughed at,
and for twelve years an extraordinary struggle ensued, Morse laboring to
convince the world of the value of his invention, and the world scoffing
at him. His own situation was forlorn in the extreme; for his painting
was his only means of livelihood, and, absorbed as he was by his great
invention, he found painting utterly impossible. His home was a single
room in the fifth story of a building at the corner of Nassau and
Beekman streets in New York City--a room which served as studio,
workshop, parlor, kitchen and bedroom. There he labored and slept,
using such money as he could earn for his experiments, and almost
starving himself in consequence.

But at last the tide turned. He was appointed to a position in the
University of the City of New York, which provided him with better means
for experiment, and in 1843, again appeared before Congress. This time,
he found some backers, and by a close vote, at the last hour of the
session, an appropriation of $30,000 was made to enable him to construct
a line between Washington and Baltimore. Wild with delight and
enthusiasm, the inventor went to work, and on the twenty-fourth day of
May, 1844, the first message flashed over the wire, "What hath God
wrought!"

The wonder and amazement of the public can be better imagined than
described. Morse offered to sell his invention to the government for the
sum of $100,000, but the Postmaster General, a thickheaded individual
named Cave Johnson, refused the offer, stating that in his opinion, no
line would ever pay for the cost of operation!