“I can never forget the occasion when he called his pupils together to witness one of the first, if not the first, successful experiment with the electric telegraph.  It was in the winter of 1835-36.  I can see now that rude instrument, constructed with an old stretching-frame, a wooden clock, a home-made battery and the wire stretched many times around the walls of the studio.  With eager interest we gathered about it as our master explained its operation while, with a click, click, the pencil, by a succession of dots and lines, recorded the message in cypher.  The idea was born.  The words circled that upper chamber as they do now the globe.

“But we had little faith.  To us it seemed the dream of enthusiasm.  We grieved to see the sketch upon the canvas untouched.  We longed to see him again calling into life events in our country’s history.  But it was not to be; God’s purposes were being accomplished, and now the world is witness to his triumph.  Yet the love of art still lives in some inner corner of his heart, and I know he can never enter the studio of a painter and see the artist silently bringing from the canvas forms of life and beauty, but he feels a tender twinge, as one who catches a glimpse of the beautiful girl he loved in his youth whom another has snatched away.

“Finally, my dear master and father in art, allow me in this moment of your triumph in the field of discovery, to greet you in the name of your brother artists with ‘All hail.’  As an artist you might have spent life worthily in turning God’s blessed daylight into sweet hues of rainbow colors, and into breathing forms for the delight and consolation of men, but it has been His will that you should train the lightnings, the sharp arrows of his anger, into the swift yet gentle messengers of Peace and Love.”

Morse’s wife and his daughter and other ladies had been present during the speeches, but they began to take their leave after Mr. Huntington’s address, although the toastmaster arose to announce the last toast, which was “The Ladies.”  So he said:  “This is the most inspiring theme of all, but the theme itself seems to be vanishing from us.  Indeed [after a pause], has already vanished. [After another pause and a glance around the room.] And the gentleman who was to have responded seems also to have vanished with his theme.  I may assume, therefore, that the duties of the evening are performed, and its enjoyments are at an end.”

The unsought honor of this public banquet, in his own country, organized by the most eminent men of the day, calling forth eulogies of him in the public press of the whole world, was justly esteemed by Morse as one of the crowning events of his long career; but an even greater honor was still in store for him, which will be described in due season.

The early months of 1869 were almost entirely devoted to his report as Commissioner, which was finally completed and sent to the Department of State in the latter part of March.  In this work he received great assistance from Professor W.P.  Blake, who was “In charge of publication,” and who writes to him on March 29:  “I have had only a short time to glance at it as it was delivered towards the close of the day, but I am most impressed by the amount of labor and care you have so evidently bestowed upon it.”