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378
The Story of the Atlantic Telegraph
·
Henry M. Field
41
Very
different
is
it
to
construct
a
line
of
railroad
or
of
telegraph
in
reality;
to
come
with
an
army
of
laborers,
with
axes
on
their
shoulders
to
cut
down
the
forests,
and
with
spades
in
their
hands
to
cast
up
the
highway.
Then
poetry
sinks
to
prose,
and
instead
of
flying
over
the
space
on
wings,
one
must
traverse
it
on
foot,
slowly
and
with
painful
steps.
Nature
asserts
her
power;
and,
as
if
resentful
of
the
disdain
with
which
man
in
his
pride
affected
to
leap
over
her,
she
piles
up
new
barriers
in
his
way.
The
mountains
with
their
rugged
sides
cannot
be
moved
out
of
their
place,
the
rocks
must
be
cleft
in
twain,
to
open
a
passage
for
the
conqueror,
before
he
can
begin
his
triumphal
march.
The
woods
thicken
into
an
impassable
jungle;
and
the
morass
sinks
deeper,
threatening
to
swallow
up
the
horse
and
his
rider;
until
the
rash
projector
is
startled
at
his
own
audacity.
Then
it
becomes
a
contest
of
forces
between
man
and
nature,
in
which,
if
he
would
be
victorious,
he
must
fight
his
way.
The
barriers
of
nature
cannot
be
lightly
pushed
aside,
but
must
yield
at
last
only
to
time
and
toil,
and
"man's
unconquerable
will."
Seldom
have
all
these
obstacles
been
combined
in
a
more
formidable
manner
to
obstruct
any
public
work,
than
against
the
attempt
to
build
a
telegraph
line
across
the
island
of
Newfoundland.
The
distance,
by
the
route
to
be
traversed,
was
over
four
hundred
miles,
and
the
country
was
a
wilderness,
an
utter
desolation.
Yet
through
such
a
country,
over
mountain
and
moor,
through
tangled
brake
and
rocky
gorge,
over
rivers
and
through
morasses,
they
were
to
build
a
road--not
merely
a
line
of
telegraph
stuck
on
poles,
but
"a
good
and
traversable
bridle-road,
eight
feet
wide,
with
bridges
of
the
same
width,"
from
end
to
end
of
the
island.
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