Still Europe holds me, not by ties of affection but by the bonds of business with which I am ever so much engaged that I have not had time even to fall in love: And now having arrived at the age of 32 years the ladies of my acquaintance, who, good creatures, are much concerned for my future happiness and honour, begin to fear that I shall die an Old bachelor; hence with eyes full of regard and the sweetest arguments they persuade me to avoid so miserable an end: In my own mind I have determined to avoid it but it is my intention to reserve all my affections for some amiable American whose customs and manners I prefer to anything I have yet seen in Europe. You will now ask when shall this be,—when will I return. This I will no longer promise because having promised frequently without being able to perform there is not much reliance in them: But still I hope the time is not distant when I will step into your little neat room, in one corner of which perhaps you have my picture, the only donation which I then had in my power to present, because being my own work it was attended with very little expense. But in this letter I send you _thirty six_ pictures of the late King of France, known in America by the name of French guineas; these, my dear mother, I hope will be of use to you, and help to take some weight of cares off your weight of years. And each year I will endeavor to aid you in proportion to my circumstances. I am in excellent health, six feet high and thin; this being thin I think rather an advantage because it suffers (allows) a man to be active. I would not be loaded with the quantity of fat which some gentlemen are obliged to carry into company, not for their whole estate.… To Mr. Smith, my Sisters, Brothers in law and friends, remember me with love and friendship, and believe me everything which is right in an affectionate son, ROBERT FULTON. Fulton’s mother died during this year, 1799, in the Pennsylvania farm-house, and it is doubtful whether his letter reached her. If it did, the thirty-six guineas, the “pictures of the late King of France,” and the happy letter, with its promise of home-coming, must have gladdened her heart. Before we take up the story of the submarine torpedo-boat work,—as difficult as that of his later invention of steam navigation,—let us recall another venture which Fulton made, along quite another line. Upon his arrival in Paris he had noticed the gayety and joyousness of the French and he decided to appeal to these happy people with a new form of amusement, a painted panorama.