Writing to Alfred Vail on the same day, he says after telling of the passage of the bill:—­

“You can have but a faint idea of the sacrifices and trials I have had in getting the Telegraph thus far before the country and the world.  I cannot detail them here; I can only say that, for two years, I have labored all my time and at my own expense, without assistance from the other proprietors (except in obtaining the iron of the magnets for the last instruments obtained of you) to forward our enterprise.  My means to defray my expenses, to meet which every cent I owned in the world was collected, are nearly all gone, and if, by any means, the bill should fail in the Senate, I shall return to New York with the fraction of a dollar in my pocket.”

And now the final struggle which meant success or failure was on.  Only eight days of the session remained and the calendar was, as usual, crowded.  The inventor, his nerves stretched to the breaking point, hoped and yet feared.  He had every reason to believe that the Senate would show more broad-minded enlightenment than the House, and yet he had been told that his bill would pass the House by acclamation, while the event proved that it had barely squeezed through by a beggarly majority of six.  He heard disquieting rumors of a determination on the part of some of the House members to procure the defeat of the bill in the Senate.  Would they succeed, would the victory, almost won, be snatched from him at the last moment, or would his faith in an overruling Providence, and in his own mission as an instrument of that Providence, be justified at last?

Every day of that fateful week saw him in his place in the gallery of the Senate chamber, and all day long he sat there, listening, as we can well imagine, with growing impatience to the senatorial oratory on the merits or demerits of bills which to him were of such minor importance, however heavily freighted with the destinies of the nation they may have been.  And every night he returned to his room with the sad reflection that one more of the precious days had passed and his bill had not been reached.  And then came the last day, March 3, that day when the session of the Senate is prolonged till midnight, when the President, leaving the White House, sits in the room provided for him at the Capitol, ready to sign the bills which are passed in these last few hurried hours, if they meet with his approval, or to consign them to oblivion if they do not.

The now despairing inventor clung to his post in the gallery almost to the end, but, being assured by his senatorial friends that there was no possibility of the bill being reached, and unable to bear the final blow of hearing the gavel fall which should signalize his defeat, shrinking from the well-meant condolences of his friends, he returned almost broken-hearted to his room.