There was a brass band on the boat, and a brass cannon; and lest these should not meet the anticipated demand for noise, every person on board was supplied with a college fish-horn. But the party failed to reach quarantine in time. They had hardly got below Governor’s Island when the black hull of the great vessel loomed up on the smoky horizon, beating up the bay toward them. Ten minutes later the two steamers, big and little, were directly opposite, though at some distance from each other. Then the reception began. It was peculiarly a college boys’ reception. Human throats vied with brass instruments, with booming cannon, and the blare of horns in proclaiming welcome to the travelers. When the people on the big steamer realized that the demonstration was for some of their number, they crowded to the side of the vessel, and waved handkerchiefs and hats. After a few minutes one of the upper guard rails was cleared, for a little space, of all the human figures save one. That one no one who knew him could fail to distinguish as “Sammy Lee.” He stood, with bared head, waving his hat in one hand and his handkerchief in the other, and apparently shouting some response at the top of his voice. Then he called his wife and son to his side; and from that point up the bay and all the way to the steamer’s pier the three stood together responding as best they could to the cries and cheers, the music and the noise, the waving hats and handkerchiefs that continuously greeted them. At last the big steamer reached her pier and swung slowly in; and the smaller boat made fast to the wharf that the excursionists might disembark and greet the travelers as they landed. Through all this demonstration Parmenter stood quietly in the background, joining occasionally in the cheering, brushing the tears from his eyes now and then, as he noted the sincerity and enthusiasm of the greeting. He went out on the pier with the others, but remained in the rear. Now that his great opportunity had arrived, he hardly knew how to avail himself of it. His heart beat thunderously against his breast. Far up the pier he saw Professor Lee and his wife and son come down the bridge. Then they were swallowed up in the circling crowd that pressed forward to greet them. Parmenter’s heart failed him then; his courage gave way, and he turned aside and stood by a wharf-post, with his face toward the water, that people passing by might not see his tears. After a little some one touched him on the shoulder, and he turned to see who it was. “Charley!” “Fred!” For one second the two men looked into each other’s eyes; then their hands met in a heart-thrilling clasp, then their arms were laid lovingly across each other’s shoulders. They were again in complete accord. No words were necessary to assure them of that. If they had been necessary Parmenter could not have spoken them. The lump in his throat had effectually choked his utterance. After a minute he managed to stammer out: