The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1893-01-04
GOOD MORSE FROM sHADowLAND.
A Telegrapher's Story of a Message from
the Other World.


One of the widest, weirdest stories
of the supernatural that has ever come
under the experience of mortal man is
told by R. II. Field, the Big -Four
telegraph operator at Southside sta
ton. Mr.. Field is very intelligent
and conscientious man and he relates
his fearful experience with candor
and earnestness that almost makes
one believe it in spite of its extreme
| improbability.
at was several years ago." he began.
81 was assigned to night duty at lit
tie station called Evansburg, Pa, on
the New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio
Railroad. hadn't been around the
world very much, but fattered myself
that had a good deal of mechanical
genius. The office was in charge of
an old fogy sort of fellow named
Jones.
"The telegraph instrument got out
of adjustment, and l knew something
about repairing it. Jones suggested
that take to my home an old-fash-
ioned relay box and fix it up. Glad of
the opportunity to show what could
do, carried the box to my boarding
shelf in an old cupboard, and went to
bed, intending to fix it up after my
sleep was over.
81 had been in bed a few minutes,
and had not gone to sleep, when, to
nv surprise and astonishment, the
armature, or what is otherwise known
as the lever, on the instrument began
ticking. was perfectly amazed and
thought there must be some mistake.
To satisfy myself that l had not been
carried away by my imagination, for
the ticking was faint and subdued,
got out of bed and with fear and trem-
bling opened the cupboard door.
81 took the instrument in my hand:
it still continued to work. put it on
the table, but the sound it made was
unintelligible. turned the spring, so
that there would be less resistance,
and then, in as clear and perfect
Morse as / ever heard, the invisible per-
son, spirit, or whatever it was, wrote:
"'Do you get me?'
IL was so overcome that | involun-
tarily answered yes without putting
it ON the instrument. The unknown
heard me, for again, in the beautiful
writing, it continued:
"'Thank God, at last. My name is
Charles Blake. I am an old-timer.
My parents who reside in Mount Pleas
ant, Ia, have lost me. They don't know
what my fate has been. Iwant you to
write to my father, Homer Blake, at
Mount Pleasant, Ia, and inform him
that died at Shreveport, La, of yell
low fever Oh. l have forgotten
the date but it was several years prior
to the date of this communication.
81 was frightened to death. Ny hair
stood on end. My boarding house was
two miles from the telegraph station.
and there was no telegraph wire of
any kind in the vicinity. [ was a lit
tie dubious about the communication
from the other world, or from some
where, will not undertake to say.
Before venturing to write to Homer
Blake, as directed, l picked up a West
ern Union tariff book, which had IN
my room, to see if there was such a
town in Iowa. I found that there
was such a place, fact that did not
know before, and that it was located
on the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy
Railroad. To satisfy myself and not
to be taken in, wrote a letter to the
Postmaster at Mount Pleasant and
asked if he knew of any one in that
vicinity named Homer Blake, and to
give me what information he could,
without telling him what I wanted it
for.
"a few days later 1 received reply,
and l have his letter somewhere among
my effects, in which he said that Ho-
mer Blake had lived in Mount Pleas
ant some years before, but that he had
moved away, to what place he did not
know. Blake, he informed me, had
two sons, one of whom, Charles, was
supposed to be dead, and the other
was a grain merchant in the far West.
"Did you not pursue your investiga-
tions farther?"
"No, did not. The truth is, was
scarced to death. l worked that wire
for eighteen months. Every time ]
took off the relay it made the same
peculiar noise and worked in splut-
tering sort of way, and to show that
there must have been some hidden OF
occult force it crossed the other wires.
Detroit San.