MESSAGES WITHOUT WIRES.

Gisborne Times, Volume VII, Issue 367, 18 March 1902, Page 4

MESSAGES WITHOUT WIRES.

nv TOHCNUA.

The Pacific cable is not yet complied, although we may not unlikely wish our relations at Home a next merry Chistmas at the reduced Pacino rate of three

shillings a word. But while a million or two sterling is thus being sunk under tho \yaters the wireless magicians are doing their level bast to destroy the cable system, with fair prospects of success. It is a marvellous thing, if you come to think of it, this wireless telegraphy. It will possibly make things so that the young ones will look at us old ones much as we ourselves look upon the men of a hundred years ago.

How is it done ? Now, ask something easy. Ask how a voice carries over a mile of valley and sight pierces the depths of space. You know. It is done by 11 vibrations.” When you speak you set something “ vibrating,” and when you hear that something “ vibrates ” to you. When you move or rest you excite unconsciously “ vibrations ” in the “ ether,” and when you see you catch those “ vibrations ” in your eye. It is altogether simple, you see. And if you want to know what “ vibrations ” are and what “ ether” is and why things are thusly, well —then you trespass upon the domain of Science and must fag up a mass of technicalities in order to cover your ignorance with a similitude of knowledge. Of the innerness of things we know today as little as is known by tho worm crawling in the ground. We know absolutely nothing of the why and wherefore of the natural phenomena of the universe. We only begin to follow the processes of these phenomena and to adapt our actions so as to take advantage of them. And Marconi does with his instruments something as his eyes do. He forms them so as to receive certain impressions as our eyes have been formed to receive certain other impressions. And he sets these impressions going with other instruments just as we make signals to one another with our hands. And the wonder of wireless telegraphy is in reality no greater than are a thousand, ay, a million, other wonders that hedge us on every hand. Only it is a new wonder, whereas the wonders of sight and sound are so old that we don’t commonly look upon them as wonders at all. Conceive it! This vast universo of ours in a stupendous camera, which has indelibly photographed every act of every creature since the beginning of time. The pictures are all there, these cinematographic picturos, waiting for the wise men of tho future to read them, safely stored in tho vaults of heaven where no man can destroy them. Some day our distant children may be ablo to see them and to read them. Compared with that feat what will wireless telegraphy be'? And how

foolish to think that our secret sins will never come to light 1 But that reading of tho wisdom of the ages is too remote to be within tho realms of practical politics. What is not remote at all is communication of signals by means of delicate instruments between distant and otherwise disconnected stations* You will bo talking in the year 1909 to your partner : “ How’s your wife enjoying herself in London 1 ” he will bo saying. “ Oh, splendid. She rang mo up at breakfast-time to say that she would bo sailing at noon.” Just then tho Marconi boll in your pocket will start tinkle-tinklo-ing. “ Hello, hello,” you will signal. 11 Hollo, John. This is Maria, on tho Brighton monorail.” “ Brighton monorail, indeed! Why didn’t you sail on the Flying Cloud, Maria ? ”

“ Oh. it was such a lovely day, John. I thought you wouldn’t mind, if we weren’t back till the end of the week. My things are on the Flying Cloud. Look after them for me, please, and let me know if they’re alright. My call is ABZ, No. 457,000,003. Now don’t forget it, because 1 don’t know just which way I may come back. Goodbye, idear." And you put your signaller back into your pocket and make up your mind that when your partner has gone—ho is due in Sydney to five o’clock tea, and in Wellington for a theatre-party, you will ring up Maria from wherever she may be, and tell her what you really think of missing the Flying Cloud. That is how it will work out some day, this Marconi business. For the present it needs high poles and complicated stations, while its development is obviously a little pocket instrument, like a watch, that picks up a given attunoment and puts its possessor into immediate communication with any other instrument in the world similarly attuned. We shall abandon our cables, turn our telegraph wires into fences, and consign our telephones to that auto-da-fe which they deserve. Ah, how the angels will smile when they seo tho last telephone vanish in smoke ! They are responsible for many hasty thoughts, those telephones, a 3 we all know. Even already, while the Pacific cable is still being laid, the Marconi messages are getting into shape. Ships carry them, and in the loneliness of the sea the operator hears the summons. “ Hello there, who’s speaking ? ” ‘‘Liner New Zealand; west so much; south so much ; who are you '? ” •‘ His Majesty’s ship Hurricane ; west so much, north'so much; what do you want ? ” “ We’re on fire, looks as though it might be serious ; can you steam this way and keep in touch ? ” “ Alright. We’ll pick you up to-morrow night if you need help. Report every hour.”

And the lonely liner fights her fire with a confidence unknown before. She is 1000 miles from the nearest coast, alone in the desolate southern ocean, but she knows that over the edge of tho world, far out 'of sight, 500 odd miles to the northward, a hundred stokers are toiling at their furnaces to keep full speed upon the great ship that is cleaving its swift

way to the rescue. This sort of thing is being done to-day upon the sea. Messages are being flashed from ship to ship over 1000 miles of water, and read with ease at coast-stations from ships that are days’ journeys out at sea. We shall soon have a chain of landstations linking the Atlantic with the Pacific, and another great chain stretching from London to Calcutta, from which it is only a short leap to tho Malay Peninsula and across the Dutch East Indies to Australia; so to New Zealand. There seems to be no linvt to tho range of the system, granted delicacy of receiver. We shall yet talk direct to London from Auckland. John, will yet ring up Maria. The old world will yet hum in space with the wireless wooing of ocean-divided lovers and—great heavens ! with tho wireless oyations of politicans addressing their world-wide audiences from easy chairs.

What possibilities! We shall all live out of town and hear our sermons while

lying snugly abed on tho Day of rest. We shall not bother to read printed news papers, but will switch on the publishing office at stated hours, and tie our Marconis to our ears while we eat breakfast, or hold the levers of electric road-cars. We shall have myriads of friends whom we had never seen, and eau tell CampbellBannerman personally just what we think of him, unless he conceals the ■number of his attuncment. And shall we be very much happier than when we wearied for letters and found the getting of them like cold water to a thirsty soul ? Is there really auy very great happiness in anything but the arduous and difficult satisfying of the primitive instincts of life ? —N.Z. Herald.