The usual festivities graced the morning. The muster, and the march across the plain to the old trees before the library. The band played, Magnus read the "Declaration," and Mr. Bouché made a speech which proved him, in theory, a model patriot. Then the midday salute of forty odd guns thundered out among the hills; returned by them in six times as many echoes; and the work of the day was done. Once upon a time, when powder was cheap, there used to be a salute at sunrise, too, and at sundown. Magnus strolled away to one of his haunts by the river, and sat himself down to watch the tide come in. It was almost full flood; the water creeping silently up, hiding every mud-stained rock, floating off the drift from every corner. One could see how it picked up its freight of chips and sticks and sawdust; but the current was so strong, the water so bright, that the dark streaks hardly counted. In fact, Magnus enjoyed the whole process, finding fair images for himself. "Just so," he thought, "would the June-tide set in, when: "Whatever of life has ebbed away Comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer, Into every green inlet, and creek, and bay." Bearing away then, of course, to parts unknown, all the disagreeables of life; studies, drills, and regulations. Wave motion giving place to Cherry. "It is so pleasant," said one of these pre-graduates to me, "to think of never again having to do anything I don't want to do!" Magnus was so deep in his dreams down there one day that a step close by made him start. This was no gauze-winged vision, however, but a poor, homesick pleb. In the gray, baggy suit of first initiation, with clouded brow and an air of general forlornness, he looked as little like flood tide as a fellow could do. He glanced at the trim first classman down among the bushes, went a few steps on, turned, hesitated, and finally came up behind Magnus. "Shall I disturb you, sir?" he said deprecatingly. "No; come on. Rocks are Government property. You're Mr. Renwick, aren't you?" "Yes, sir." The boy sat himself down at the water's edge, and looked gloomily off. He was a slight fellow, just touching the regulation age; fair-skinned, soft-haired, with an unmistakable air of love and petting about him. "A mother's boy" all over. There were hearts aching for a sight of him somewhere, without a doubt. Magnus eyed him a while from a first-class standpoint; then his look softened. What wretched, desperate hours he himself had spent in that very dress among those very rocks. And then of a sudden Cadet Kindred fell to wondering what the Lord would say to this poor heart, were he there himself in bodily presence? And the reply was instant: "Be pitiful, be courteous." "You were in the pleb formation on the Fourth?" he said abruptly. "Yes, sir." "Liked it?" "No, sir. At least I liked it well enough, but I didn't enjoy it." "Why not?" "Last Fourth was better."