Let the story of Fulton teach us all another lesson, which is this--When we feel that we are right in our devotion to any cause, let not the scoffs of the world move us. Even though there may be dark days, when we seem given up to ridicule by the world around; when even friends desert us, and poverty besets us, and slander assails us, and sorrow and gloom seem gathering around our path, let us look to the beautiful example of Fulton and be comforted. Let us say to ourselves, “Fulton persevered, and we will persevere. Fulton met with difficulties and suffered from poverty; but he met them patiently, and at last he triumphed.” Let us imitate his steadfastness, and gather confidence from his success. The little steamboat approached us rapidly. Never in my life have I felt a deeper excitement than at that moment! All the people on board our little sloop were leaning over the side, straining their eyes to watch this wonder of the water. On she came, cutting the current and seeming like a thing of life, moving by her own power. She came nearer and more near. I have seen other steamboats since; those that were ten times as large; but never one that touched my imagination like that. We passed close to her side. There was a tall, slender man standing upon her deck. His face was dark, and careworn; his eye black, deep-set, and sparkling; his hair black and curling--though perchance a little grizzled. It was Robert Fulton! His name was spoken by our captain, and instantly a cheer broke from every man on board our little vessel. “Fulton! Fulton!” was the cry; and the name was echoed a hundred times among the hills. This was a bright spot in my life. I shall never forget it--I could not tell my feelings then--I cannot express them now. I have often thought of this scene: the image of Fulton, calm, thoughtful and modest in that day of triumph, always comes back as distinctly to my memory, as when he stood before me then. It has not been to me a barren incident; for in my humble career, I too have had difficulties, cares, sorrows; and I have drawn comfort, I trust composure, from his example. The humblest plant may extract beams from the sun--and Robert Merry would say to his readers, that he, poor as he is, humble as he is, has a sort of feeling that Robert Fulton, though dead and departed, comes to cheer him in his lonely journey through life. Often, in some dark hour, has his image broke in upon him like a ray of light; thus converting gloom into sunshine. I know that this may seem to be a mere fancy, yet there is reason in it, or, if not, there is comfort in it.