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Updated: May 14, 2025
His eyes, the hard-boiled eyes of a Loop-hound, took on the look of a sad old man. And suddenly he was no longer Jo, the sport; old J. Hertz, the gay dog. He was Jo Hertz, thirty, in love with life, in love with Emily, and with the stinging blood of young manhood coursing through his veins.
He turned to me and gazing intently at my upturned face which I am sure reflected his own in its enthusiasm and delight, continued: "You, my son, and I, will put this before us as a possible achievement and work incessantly for that end. Prof. Hertz has generated these magnetic waves; we will; and by means of some sort of a receiver endeavor to find out a clue to wireless telegraphy."
Hertz insisted on the fact that the six equations of the electric field permit all the phenomena to be anticipated without its being necessary to construct one hypothesis or another, and he put these equations into a very symmetrical form, which brings completely in evidence the perfect reciprocity between electrical and magnetic actions.
Hertz points with proper scorn to the sedan chair, the palanquin, the ox cart and the Ringling Brothers' racing chariots, we sweep a three-dollar fedora across the ground, raise our eyebrows and smile mysteriously to ourselves. For on the days when our insanities grow somewhat persistent there is a solace in the spectacle of taxicabs that none of the advertisements of Mr.
Something inside Jo Hertz stopped working for a moment, then lurched sickeningly, then thumped like mad. It was his heart. He stood staring down at her, and she up at him, until the others laughed. Then their hands fell apart, lingeringly. "Are you a school-teacher, Emily?" he said. "Kindergarten. It's my first year. And don't call me Emily, please." "Why not? It's your name.
She looked very much like her mother, just then. It was a fighting face. A desperate face. "Look here," she began, and was surprised to find that she was only whispering. She wet her lips and smiled, and tried again, forming the words carefully with her lips. "Look here. She's dying isn't she? Isn't she! She's dying, isn't she?" Doctor Hertz pursed his lips.
He developed into a Loop-hound, ever keen on the scent of fresh pleasure. That side of Jo Hertz which had been repressed and crushed and ignored began to bloom, unhealthily. At first he spent money on his rather contemptuous nieces. He sent them gorgeous fans, and watch bracelets, and velvet bags.
In Professor Fitzgerald's address to the British Association at Bath last autumn, he gives an account of those astounding experiments of Hertz, in which well-timed electrical impulses broke down an air resistance, and revealed to us ethereal vibrations which could never have been made manifest except by the principle we are here discussing.
As we have seen, various schemes were tried by Marconi ranging from metallic reflectors used by Hertz in his early experiments with the electric waves to the more successful arrangement of aerial conductors.
Should the historian desire to give a conclusion to his labour and answer the question the reader would doubtless not fail to put to him, "To whom, in short, should the invention of wireless telegraphy more particularly be attributed?" he should certainly first give the name of Hertz, the genius who discovered the waves, then that of Marconi, who was the first to transmit signals by the use of Hertzian undulations, and should add those of the scholars who, like Morse, Popoff, Sir W. Preece, Lodge, and, above all, Branly, have devised the arrangements necessary for their transmission.
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