“Your friend Mr. Tisdale says the picture of the Hercules ought to be in Boston as the beginning of a gallery of paintings, and that the Bostonians ought not to permit it to go from here.  Whether they will or not, I know not.  I place no confidence in them, but they may take a fit into their heads to patronize the fine arts, and, in that case, they have it in their power undoubtedly to do as much as any city in this country towards their support.”

Morse had now made up his mind to return home, although his parents, in their letters of that time, had given him leave to stay longer if he thought it would be for his best interest, but his father had made it clear that he must, from this time forth, depend on his own exertions.  He hoped that (Providence permitting) he need only spend a year at home in earning enough money to warrant his returning to Europe.  Providence, however, willed otherwise, and he did not return to Europe until fourteen years later.

The next letter is dated from Liverpool, August 8, 1815, and is but a short one.  I shall quote the first few sentences:—­

“I have arrived thus far on my way home.  I left London the 5th and arrived in this place yesterday the 7th, at which time, within an hour, four years ago, I landed in England.  I have not yet determined by what vessel to return; I have a choice of a great many.  The Ceres is the first that sails, but I do not like her accommodations.  The Liverpool packet sails about the 25th, and, as she has always been a favorite ship with me, it is not improbable I may return in her.”

He decided to sail in the Ceres, however, to his sorrow, for the voyage home was a long and dreadful one.  The record of those terrible fifty-eight days, carefully set down in his journal, reads like an Odyssey of misfortune and almost of disaster.

To us of the present day, who cross the ocean in a floating hotel, in a few days, arriving almost on the hour, the detailed account of the dangers, discomforts, and privations suffered by the travellers of an earlier period seems almost incredible.  Brave, indeed, were our fathers who went down to the sea in ships, for they never knew when, if ever, they would reach the other shore, and there could be no C.Q.D. or S.O.S. flashed by wireless in the Morse code to summon assistance in case of disaster.  In this case storm succeeded storm; head winds were encountered almost all the way across; fine weather and fair winds were the exception, and provisions and fresh water were almost exhausted.

The following quotations from the journal will give some idea of the terrors experienced by the young man, whose appointed time had not yet arrived.  He still had work to do in the world which could be done by no other.

“Monday, August 21, 1815. After waiting fourteen days in Liverpool for a fair wind, we set sail at three o’clock in the afternoon with the wind at southeast, in company with upwards of two hundred sail of vessels, which formed a delightful prospect.  We gradually lost sight of different vessels as it approached night, and at sunset they were dispersed all over the horizon.  In the night the wind sprung up strong and fair, and in the morning we were past Holyhead.