overnment should take the Telegraph, or companies should be
formed for that purpose, so that a sum is realized from it when I get
home, this will, of course, change the face of things; but I dare not
expect it and ought not to build any plans on such a contingency. So far
as praise goes I have every reason to be satisfied at the state of things
here in regard to the Telegraph. All the savants, committees of learned
societies, members of the Chamber of Deputies, and officers of Government
have, without exception, been as enthusiastic in its reception as any in
the United States. Both the priority and superiority of my invention are
established, and thus the credit, be it more or less, is secured to our
country. The Prefect of the Seine expressed a desire to see it and called
by appointment yesterday. He was perfectly satisfied, and said of his own
accord that he should see the king last evening and should mention the
Telegraph to him. I shall probably soon be requested, therefore, to show
the Telegraph to the king.

"All these are most encouraging prospects; there is, indeed, nothing that
has arisen to throw any insurmountable obstacle in the way of its
adoption with complete success; and for all this I ought to feel
gratitude, and I wish to acknowledge it before Him to whom gratitude is
due. Is it right or is it wrong, in view of all this, to feel
despondency?

"In spite of all I do feel sad. I am no longer young; I have children,
but they are orphans, and orphans they are likely to be. I have a
country, but _no home_. It is this _no home_ that perpetually haunts me.
I feel as if it were duty, duty most urgent, for me to settle in a family
state at all hazards on account of these children. I know they suffer in
this forming period of their lives for the want of a home, of the care of
a father and a mother, and that no care and attention from friends, be
they ever so kind, can supply the place of parents. But all efforts,
direct and indirect, to bring this about have been frustrated.

"My dear brother, may you never feel, as I have felt, _the loss of a
wife_. That wound bleeds afresh daily, as if it were inflicted but
yesterday. There is a meaning in all these acute mental trials, and they
are at times so severe as almost to deprive me of reason, though few
around me would suspect the state of my mind."

These last few lines are eminently characteristic of the man. While
called upon to endure much, both mentally and p