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. The future must have looked black indeed. He had staked his all and lost, and he was resolved to abandon all further efforts to press his invention on an unfeeling and a thankless world. He must pick up his brush again; he must again woo the fickle goddess of art, who had deserted him before, and who would, in all probability, be chary of her favors now. In that dark hour it would not have been strange if his trust in God had wavered, if he had doubted the goodness of that Providence to whose mysterious workings he had always submissively bowed. But his faith seems to have risen triumphant even under this crushing stroke, for he thus describes the events of that fateful night, and of the next morning, in a letter to Bishop Stevens, of Pennsylvania, written many years later:-- "The last days of the last session of that Congress were about to close. A bill appropriating thirty thousand dollars for my purpose had passed the House, and was before the Senate for concurrence. On the last day of the session [3d of March, 1843] I had spent the whole day and part of the evening in the Senate chamber, anxiously watching, the progress of the passing of the various bills, of which there were, in the morning of that day, over one hundred and forty to be acted upon before the one in which I was interested would be reached; and a resolution had a few days before been passed to proceed with the bills on the calendar in their regular order, forbidding any bill to be taken up out of its regular place.