"In spite of all I do feel sad. I am no longer young; I have children, but they are orphans, and orphans they are likely to be. I have a country, but _no home_. It is this _no home_ that perpetually haunts me. I feel as if it were duty, duty most urgent, for me to settle in a family state at all hazards on account of these children. I know they suffer in this forming period of their lives for the want of a home, of the care of a father and a mother, and that no care and attention from friends, be they ever so kind, can supply the place of parents. But all efforts, direct and indirect, to bring this about have been frustrated. "My dear brother, may you never feel, as I have felt, _the loss of a wife_. That wound bleeds afresh daily, as if it were inflicted but yesterday. There is a meaning in all these acute mental trials, and they are at times so severe as almost to deprive me of reason, though few around me would suspect the state of my mind." These last few lines are eminently characteristic of the man. While called upon to endure much, both mentally and physically, he possessed such remarkable self-control that few, if any, of those around him were aware of his suffering. Only to his intimates did he ever reveal the pain which sometimes gnawed at his heart, and then only occasionally and under great stress. It was this self-control, united to a lofty purpose and a natural repugnance to wearing his heart on his sleeve, which enabled him to accomplish what he did. Endowed also with a saving sense of humor, he made light of his trials to others and was a welcome guest in every social gathering. The want of a place which he could really call home was an ever-present grief. It is the dominant note in almost all the letters to his brothers and his children, and it is rather quaintly expressed in a letter, of November 14, 1838, to his daughter:-- "Tell Uncle Sidney to take good care of you, and to have a little snug room in the upper corner of his new building, where a bed can be placed, a chair, and a table, and let me have it as my own, that there may be one little particular spot which I can call _home_. I will there make three wooden stools, one for you, one for Charles, and one for Finley, and invite you to your father's house." In spite of the enthusiasm which the exhibition of his invention aroused among the learned men and others in Paris, he met with obstructions of the most vexatious kind at every turn, in his effort to bring it into practical use. Just as the way seemed clear for its adoption by the French Government, something happened which is thus described in a letter to Mr. Smith, of January 28, 1889: