When the elder Audubon returned from one of his periodic cruises, "my room," said the naturalist, "made quite a show," and the father complimented him on his good taste; but upon being questioned in regard to the progress made in his other studies, he could only hang his head in silence. His sister Rosa, on the contrary, who was also called to account, was warmly commended upon the improvement shown in her musical exercises. The next morning at dawn a carriage was drawn up before the Audubon door, and with the father and son, together with the latter's trunk and violin, was soon proceeding in the direction of Rochefort. The sailor had laid his plans and was about to execute them in his own way. Presently, said the son, his father drew forth a book and began to read, thus leaving him to his own resources. In this way they traveled for a number of days, not an unnecessary word being spoken during the entire journey, until the walls of Rochefort had been passed, and they alighted at the door of the father's house in that city. When they had entered, the naturalist continues, "my father bade me sit by his side, and taking one of my hands, calmly said to me: 'My beloved boy, thou art now safe. I have brought thee here that I may be able to pay constant attention to thy studies; thou shalt have ample time for pleasures, but the remainder _must_ be employed with industry and care. This day is entirely thine, and as I must attend to my duties, if thou wishest to see the docks, the fine ships-of-war, and walk around the wall, thou mayest accompany me.'" The youth accepted his father's proposal with good grace, and was presented to the officers whom they met, but he soon found that he was like a prisoner of war on parade. He was enrolled at once in the military school, where he was placed under the immediate care of Gabriel Loyen du Puigaudeau, his future brother-in-law. It was not long, however, before young Audubon gave his guardian the slip; he jumped from the window of his prison and made for the gardens of the Marine Secrétariat, but a corporal, whom he had recognized as a friend, suddenly nipped his plans in the bud; he was ordered, he said, aboard a pontoon, then lying in port, and there was obliged to remain until his father, who was absent at the time, finally released him, "not without a severe reprimand." The following record, written long after, is reminiscent of this period: "This day twenty-one years since I was at Rochefort in France. I spent most of the day at copying letters of my father to the Minister of the Navy.... What has happened to me since would fill a volume.... This day, January first, 1821, I am on a keel boat going down to New Orleans, the poorest man on it."