"Mrs. Chauncey Cupple, Mount Joy Hotel, New York----Dear Wife: Well, here we are at London, after a very pleasant voyage, all things considered. We had only two days of inclement weather and I was not seasick at any time. We saw a great many porpoises, but no whales. The third day out I won the pool on the run. Formed the acquaintance of several pleasant people. (Signed) James." "It's just as good as a letter," said the man from Buffalo. "Yes, and I save fifty-eight words," said Cupple. "I wouldn't travel without a code." "Why don't you tack on another word and let her know how many knots we made each day?" asked the Buffalo man, but his sarcasm was wasted. A week later I met Mr. Cupple and he said that the cablegram had given his wife nervous prostration. Mr. Cupple is not a careful penman and the cable operator had read the last word of the message as "auspicious" instead of "suspicious." A reference to the code showed that the mistake changed the sense of the message. "_Suspicious_--Formed the acquaintance of several pleasant people. "_Auspicious_--After a futile effort to work the pumps the captain gave orders to lower the boats. The passengers were in a panic, but the captain coolly restrained them and gave orders that the women and children should be sent away first." The message, as altered in transmission, caused Mrs. Cupple some uneasiness, and, also, it puzzled her. It was gratifying to know that her husband had enjoyed the voyage and escaped seasickness, but she did not like to leave him on the deck of the ship with a lot of women and children stepping up to take the best places in the boat. Yet she could not believe that he had been lost, otherwise, how could he have filed a cablegram at London? She wanted further particulars, but she could not find in the code any word meaning "Are you drowned?" So she sent a forty-word inquiry to London, and when Mr. Cupple counted the cost of it he cabled back: "All right. Ignore code." CHAPTER VI WHAT ONE MAN PICKED UP IN LONDON AND SENT BACK TO HIS BROTHER A man is always justly proud of the information which has just come to hand. He enjoys a new piece of knowledge just as a child enjoys a new Christmas toy. It seems impossible for him to keep his hands off of it. He wants to carry it around and show it to his friends, just as a child wants to race through the neighbourhood and display his new toy. Within a week the toy may be thrown aside, having become too familiar and commonplace, and by the same rule of human weakness the man will toss his proud bit of information into the archives of memory and never haul it out again except in response to a special demand.