He had lived so much among the Indians, and was so
accustomed to their way of biling things down to an essence, that he
spoke in proverbs, or wise saws. Says he to me, with a shake of his
head, "a mocking bird has no voice of its own." It warn't a bad
sayin', was it? I wish I had noted more of them, for though I like
'em, I am so yarney, I can't make them as pithey as he did. I can't
talk short-hand, and I must say I like condensation. Now, brevity is
the only use to individuals there is in telegraphs. There is very
little good news in the world for any of us; and bad news comes fast
enough. I hate them myself. The only good there is in 'em, is to make
people write short; for if you have to pay for every word you use, you
won't be extravagant in 'em, there is no mistake.
Telegraphs ruin intellect; they reduce a wise man to the level of a
fool; and fifty years hence there won't be a sensible trader left. For
national purposes they are very well, and government ought to have
kept them to themselves, for those objects; but they play the devil
with merchants. There is no room for the exercise of judgment. It's a
dead certainty now. Flour is eight dollars in England; well, every one
knows that, and the price varies, and every one knows that also, by
telegraph. Before that, a judgmatical trader took his cigar in his
mouth, sat down, and calculated.
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