SAMUEL FINLEY BEEESE MORSE. 237 



quicker if you can.' And Mr. Morse found in his 

 hand a neatly folded, gilt-edged note, the very 

 perfume and shape of which told a volume of love. 



" ' I cannot send this note/ said Mr. Morse, with 

 some feeling ; ' it is impossible.' 



" ' Oh, do, do ! ' implored the distracted girl. 

 ' William and I have had a quarrel, and I shall die 

 if he don't know that I forgive him in a second. 

 I know I shall.' 



''Mr. Morse still objected to sending the note, 

 when the fair one, brightening up, asked, ' You will, 

 then, send me on, won't you ? ' 



" ' Perhaps,' said one of the clerks, ( it would 

 take your breath away to travel forty miles in a 

 second.' 



" ' Oh, no, it won't ! no, it won't, if it carries me 

 to William ! The cars in the morning go so slow I 

 can't wait for them.' 



"Mr. Morse now comprehended the mistake 

 which the petitioner ;vas laboring under, and at- 

 tempted to explain the process of conveying impor- 

 tant information along the wires. The letter-writer 

 listened a few moments, impatiently, and then 

 rolled her burning epistle into a ball, in the excite- 

 ment under which she labored, and thrust it into 

 her bosom. 



" ' It's too slow ! ' she finally exclaimed ; ' it's too 

 slow ! and my heart will break before William 

 knows I forgive him; and you are a cruel man, 

 Mr. Morse,' said the fair creature, the tears coming 

 into her eyes, < that you won't let me travel by the 



