Mr. Prentiss was rejected by the casting vote of the Speaker, Mr. Polk, and the election sent back to the people; when, after another extraordinary canvass, he was triumphantly returned.  After the adjournment of Congress he visited his mother in Portland.  About this time a great reception was given to Mr. Webster, as defender of the Constitution, in Faneuil Hall, and Mr. Prentiss was invited to be present and address the assemblage.  His speech on the occasion is still fresh in the memory of all who heard it.  He was called upon late in the evening, and after a succession of very able speakers; but hardly had the vast audience heard the tap of his cane, as he stepped forward, and caught the first sound of his marvellous voice, when he held them, as it were, spell-bound.  Before he had uttered a word, indeed, he had taken possession of his audience by his very look—­for, when aroused by a great occasion, his countenance flashed like a diamond.  Gov.  Everett, who presided at the banquet, himself an orator of classic power, thus referred to Mr. Prentiss’ address, in a letter written more than a dozen years later: 

It seemed to me the most wonderful specimen of sententious fluency I had ever witnessed.  The words poured from his lips in a torrent, but the sentences were correctly formed, the matter grave and important, the train of thought distinctly pursued, the illustrations wonderfully happy, drawn from a wide range of reading, and aided by a brilliant imagination.  That it was a carefully prepared speech, no one could believe for a moment.  It was the overflow of a full mind, swelling in the joyous excitement of the friendly reception, kindling with the glowing themes suggested by the occasion, and not unmoved by the genius of the place.  Sitting by Mr. Webster, I asked him if he had ever heard anything like it?  He answered, “Never, except from Mr. Prentiss himself.”

Political life was exceedingly distasteful to Mr. Prentiss and he soon abandoned it and returned with fresh zeal to the practice of his profession.  The applauses of the world seemed never for an instant to deceive him.  He wrote after a great speech at Nashville, addressed, it was estimated, to 40,000 people:  “They heap compliments upon me till I am almost crushed beneath them.”  And yet in the midst of such popular ovations he wrote to his sister: 

I laugh at those who look upon the uncertain, slight, and changeable regards of the multitude, as worthy even of comparison with the true affection of one warm heart.  I have ever yearned for affection; I believe it is the only thing of which I am avaricious.  I never had any personal ambition, and do not recollect the time when I would not have exchanged the applause of thousands for the love of one of my fellow-beings.

In 1842 his yearning for affection was satisfied by his marriage to Miss Mary Jane Williams, of Natchez; and henceforth his life was full of the sweetest domestic peace and joy.  From the moment of first leaving home he had carried on a constant correspondence with his mother, sisters, and brothers, in the North; and he kept it up while he lived.  He took a special interest in the education of his youngest brother, and at one time had planned to join him in Germany for purposes of study and travel.  All the later years of his life were years of unwearied toil and struggle.