All that spring, in spite of much work, Magnus Kindred wrote home very regularly; long, amusing letters. Telling less of his inner life than the hearts at home would have liked; but the strangeness of what he said of the outer partly covered this up. And I doubt whether Magnus knew how little he told. Of one thing, however, he was dimly conscious. At first, his mother's expressions of trust and hope, given in Bible words or her own, had been a comfort and help to him; they seemed to bring her nearer and to make him stronger. But of late he had been often inclined to slur over those parts of her letters, and to hurry on "to get the news first"--as he put it to himself. He never stopped to ask why; and it was again Mr. Upright who opened his eyes, and showed him how quietly they had been closing and falling asleep. There are tears as well as smiles, on that fateful day in June. Here is a mother, who, having had her son within easy reach for the last four years, knows that now, after the short graduation leave, he will be whirled away beyond her ken. To Barrancas, it may be, or Huachuca, or Indian Territory. So the mother breaks down and cries visibly. And here are roommates, who have stood shoulder to shoulder in all sorts of hardships, now henceforth, until, they are grey-haired men, to live as far apart as this broad country can put them; and it is a sobering thought. Then, this pretty, timid girl, who has ventured her heart on the insecure ground of cadet soft speeches; or thought out her wedding dress after one particular walk around Flirtation; or tried the class ring on one of her own slender fingers, without being asked to keep it there. "Oh, it is too dreadful!" she cries, stamping her little foot, and with the tears all ready, when that heartless band fall off into "The Girl I Left Behind Me." "I can _not_ see what they find in that old tune." It goes hard with her, sometimes, poor child, in matter of health. And sometimes a like hope is laid down with the grey, and the blue must seek another charmer; and earth is--henceforth and comparatively--a desert. All sorts of things happen at graduation; and when you hear an eager, "You will be sure to come back in August," it does not follow that he will, or that she will wait for him if he does. But there was no shallow sentiment about Mr. Upright. On the day of his graduation, the young first captain, having put off his cadet honours and come out in plain "cits," went down to the mess-hall dinner to look round the old place once more, and to speak farewell words to his own company and the Corps. Magnus Kindred caught his eye and smile, and started a yell for Mr. Upright, which quite cut short that young man's power to say much; but every word had the resonance of true metal.