ration." President Dwight of Yale found him "as full
of resources as an egg is of meat"; and Daniel Webster spoke of him as
"always thinking, always writing, always talking, always acting." Mr.
Prime thus sums up his character: "He was a man of genius, not content
with what had been and was, but originating and with vast executive
ability combining the elements to produce great results. To him more than
to any other one man may be attributed the impulses given in his day to
religion and learning in the United States. A polished gentleman in his
manners; the companion, correspondent, and friend of the most eminent men
in Church and State; honored at the early age of thirty-four with the
degree of Doctor of Divinity by the University of Edinburgh, Scotland;
sought by scholars and statesmen from abroad as one of the foremost men
of his country and time."

The son must have felt keenly the loss of his father so soon after the
death of his wife. The whole family was a singularly united one, each
member depending on the others for counsel and advice, and the father,
who was but sixty-five when he died, was still vigorous in mind, although
of delicate constitution.

Later in this year Morse managed to spend some time in New Haven, and he
persuaded his mother to seek rest and recuperation in travel,
accompanying her as far as Boston and writing to her there on his return
to New Haven.

"_September 20, 1826._ I arrived safely home after leaving you yesterday
and found that neither the house nor the folks had run away.... Persevere
in your travels, mother, as long as you think it does you good, and tell
Dick to brush up his best bows and bring home some lady to grace the now
desolate mansion."

On November 9, 1826, he writes to his mother from New York:--

"Don't think I have forgotten you all at home because I have been so
remiss in writing you lately. I feel guilty, however, in not stealing
some little time just to write you one line. I acknowledge my fault, so
please forgive me and I will be a _better boy_ in future.

"The fact is I have been engaged for the last three days during all my
leisure moments in something unusual with me,--I mean _electioneering_.
'Oh! what a sad boy!' mother will say. 'There he is leaving everything at
sixes and sevens, and driving through the streets, and busying himself
about those _poison politics_.' Not quite so fast, however.

"I have not neglected my own affairs, as you will learn one