His brothers, who owned a building in New York on the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets, allowed Morse to have a room on the fifth floor. Here he toiled day and night, sleeping little and eating the simplest and scantiest food. Indeed, so meagre was his fare, consisting mainly of crackers and tea, that he bought his provisions at night lest his friends might discover his need.
During this time of hardship he kept starvation from his door by giving lessons in painting to a few pupils. On a certain occasion, Morse said to one of them, who owed him a quarter's tuition: "Well, Strothers, my boy, how are we off for money?"
"Professor," said the young fellow, "I'm sorry to say I have been disappointed, but I expect the money next week."
"Next week!" cried his needy teacher, "I shall be dead by next week."
"Dead, sir?" rejoined Strothers.
"Yes, dead by starvation," was the emphatic answer.
"Would $10 be of any service?" asked the pupil, now impressed with the seriousness of the situation.
"Ten dollars would save my life," was the answer of the poor man, who had been without food for twenty-four hours. You may be sure that Strothers promptly handed him the money.
But in spite of heavy trials and many discouragements he had by 1837 finished a machine which he exhibited in New York. Among those present was a gifted and inventive young man by the name of Alfred Vail. Greatly impressed, he told Morse that he believed the telegraph would be successful, and later he joined Morse in a business compact.
Alfred Vail's father and brother were wealthy men, the owners of large iron and brass mills, and he himself was skilful in working brass. Morse was therefore glad to accept him as a partner, especially on account of his good financial backing. Young Vail was full of hope and enthusiasm, and was of great assistance in devising suitable apparatus for the telegraph.