The American Congress now seemed as indifferent to his inventions as
the European governments. An exciting campaign for the presidency was
at hand, and the proposed grant for the telegraph was forgotten. Mr.
Smith had returned to the political arena, and the Vails were under a
financial cloud, so that Morse could expect no further aid from them.
The next two years were the darkest he had ever known. 'Porte Crayon'
tells us that he had little patronage as a professor, and at one time
only three pupils besides himself. Crayon's fee of fifty dollars for
the second quarter were overdue, owing to his remittance from home not
arriving; and one day the professor said, 'Well, Strother, my boy, how
are we off for money?' Strother explained how he was situated, and
stated that he hoped to have the money next week.
'Next week!' repeated Morse. 'I shall be dead by that time . . . dead
of starvation.'
'Would ten dollars be of any service?' inquired the student, both
astonished and distressed.
'Ten dollars would save my life,' replied Morse; and Strother paid
the money, which was all he owned. They dined together, and afterwards
the professor remarked, 'This is my first meal for twenty-four hours.
Strother, don't be an artist.
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