The idea of enclosing insulated wires in pipes was taken from the accounts published in America of Wheatstone’s first telegraph in England; but this method when tried proved unsuccessful, and was at once abandoned, the wires being henceforth placed on poles. About a year was occupied in completing the first practical line; and then Professor Morse sent for Miss Ellsworth, and asked her to supply the first message. This she did, giving the memorable words: “What hath God wrought!” The Professor himself worked the transmitter, which was in the chamber of the United States Supreme Court at Washington; the date was the 24th of May, 1844; and the message was received at Baltimore in the signs which were henceforth to be known as the Morse Alphabet, as follows: .-- .... .- - .... .- - .... W H A T H A T H --. . . -.. .-- . .. . . G O D W R O ..- --. .... - U G H T An incident soon occurred which brought the telegraph into notoriety. Three days after the transmission of the first message the National Democratic Convention, then sitting in Baltimore, nominated James K. Polk as president; and as vice-president Silas Wright, who was at that time in the Senate at Washington. Mr. Vail sent the news of the nomination by telegraph from Baltimore to Professor Morse, and he communicated it to Mr. Wright, who immediately declined the nomination. The rapidity with which the messages had passed between Baltimore and Washington surprised the Convention, who are said to have been so incredulous on the subject that they sent a Committee to Washington to confer with Mr. Wright, and adjourned till the desired confirmation was received. The incident caused a sensation. The telegraph became the latest “wonder.” Professor Morse’s long winter of despondency and anxious struggle seemed now to be made glorious summer. The hill of difficulty appeared to have been surmounted. His invention answered expectations, and the experimental line worked well. Now his buoyancy seemed to rise to poetic flights; for in March, 1845, he wrote that while travelling on the Rhine some years previously he saw on a sundial at Worms the motto _Horas non numero nisi serenas_; the beauty of its sentiment appeared to him to be so well sustained in the euphony of its syllables that he placed it in his note-book, and he now ventured to expand it into the following stanzas which he dedicated “To my young friend A----, sincerely praying that the dial of her life may ever show unclouded hours.” TO MISS A. G. E. THE SUNDIAL. _Horas non numero nisi serenas._ I note not the hours except they be bright.