There is an essential part of the telephone that it is necessary to go outside of the field of electricity to describe. It is undoubtedly understood by the reader that all sound is produced by vibrations, or rapid undulations, of the surrounding air. If a membrane of any kind is stretched across a hoop, and one talks against it, so to speak, the diaphragm or membrane will be shaken, will vibrate, with the movement of the air produced by the voice. If a cannon be fired all the windows rattle, and are often broken. A peal of thunder will cause the same jar and rattle of window panes, manifestly by what we call "sound"--vibrations of the air. The window frame is a "diaphragm." The ear is constructed on the same principle, its diaphragm being actually moved by the vibrations of air, being what we call hearing. With these facts about sound understood in connection with those given in connection with the substitution of a magnet for a battery current, it is entirely possible for any non-expert to understand the theory of the construction of the telephone. In the Bell telephone, now used with the Blake transmitter [which differs somewhat from the arrangement I shall now describe] a bar magnet has a portion of its length wound with very fine insulated wire. Across the opposite end of this polarized [Footnote: "Polarized" means magnetized; having the two poles of a permanent magnet. The term is frequently used in descriptions of electrical appliances. Instead of using the terms _positive_ and _negative_, it is also customary to speak of the "North" or the "South" of a magnet, battery or circuit.] magnet, crosswise to it, and very close, there is placed a diaphragm of thin sheet iron. This is held only around its edge, and its center is free to vibrate toward and from the end of this polarized magnet. This thin disc of iron, therefore, follows the movements, the "soundwaves," of the air against it, which are caused by the human voice. We have an instance of apiece of soft iron moving toward, and away from, a magnet. It moves with a rapidity and violence precisely proportioned to the tones and inflections of the voice. Those movements are almost microscopic, not perceptible to the eye, but sufficient.