"The rights of the sympathetic telegraph system were purchased in 1892, for five millions of dollars, and that system caused all of the surface lines to be abandoned in a few years." "The sympathetic system, did you say?" and Cobb showed more interest than he had evinced in the President's dry recital of the law of the country. "That is the name of it," Mr. Craft replied. "Does it differ much from the Morse system?" "Many would not understand your question, Junius. You must remember that the system has been in operation for over a hundred years; few persons know any other. Fortunately, I can answer your question, for I have studied the subject. There is practically no difference between the two systems, save in one respect--" "And that respect is--" interrupted Cobb. "That there is no wire, metal, or tangible connection of any kind between the instruments." "What! no wire! How, then, does the current pass?" "We do not know!" "Well! that is very strange! A telegraph system, and its principle unknown!" "It is just as I tell you. We know how it works, but not why." "And was the principle never divulged by the inventor?" "Never." "Surely, he taught you how to make the instruments?" "Oh, yes; or the system would have been of little worth," and Mr. Craft smiled at the utter amazement of his listener. "But I can conceive of no instrument being made by human hands for a specific purpose, unless the principle upon which it was constructed was fully known," and Junius Cobb shook his head as if doubting the statement of the other. "The sympathetic telegraph is, however, a manifest success," continued the President. "It works over miles of country and in every direction, and at each station records the pulsations of the heart of its mate, wheresoever on the face of the earth that mate may be." "By whom was this wonderful instrument invented? Surely, his name will live forever!" "Ah, Junius, you are right! The name of Jean Colchis will--why, Junius! what is the matter?" Cobb had sprung from his chair as the old name, so dear to him, was uttered. He moved anxiously toward the President, and seized him by the arm, while an expression of hope, of fond remembrance, came into his eyes. "O, tell me," he cried. "Tell me of this Jean Colchis! of his daughter! It was he, you have said! There never was but one Jean Colchis! It must be he--my master!" "Calm yourself, Junius," hurriedly exclaimed Mr. Craft, as he gently laid his hand upon the young man's shoulder. "Did _you_ know Jean Colchis?" in a wondering tone. "Ah! did I? He was my master! It was he, Mr. Craft, who invented the power that brought me to this new life!" Tears came into his manly eyes as he remembered his benefactor and his lovely daughter. "I know nothing of him," sadly returned Mr. Craft. "He was, and has passed out of life. He lives now but in history and the minds of the American people." A dimness came into his eyes as he witnessed the emotion of the other.