What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam
Of the morning's first beam;
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream. —Francis Key.

It is not a particularly interesting bit of road at first, as you leave the great city, going north. The tunnel, the gleams and glooms in the long passage under ever-arching streets; and whatever the Harlem end of New York may have been, it is not delightsome to look upon now.

But the way to the turn is not long; and once round that corner, and racing along the river side, there is enough to see, well worth the seeing. And it was all new to Magnus. The wonderful rush of the mighty river, rolling its blue waves in endless curls and undulations; the stately Palisades, with their drapings of June green; the white-winged craft on the water, and the white-winged gulls in the air; all made the boy's heart leap. Here went a steamer, ploughing her crested furrows; now and then the train stopped for breath at some station with a strange name. It was all a wonderful new world.

With his face close to the window Magnus looked eagerly out; sending his gaze as far up the river as the headlands and bends would let him; and at last in the distance beyond the narrowing waters of Haverstraw Bay, and above the nearer hillsides, rose lovely mountain-heads. Not towering and stupendous, such as he might have seen many a time in the Western States, but soft, rounded, exquisite; just high enough, in fact, to claim the dignified name of mountains, as distinguished from mere hills. What they were, and where they belonged, Magnus could not tell. They rose up, and stretched out, and locked in, in an impassable sort of way; as if they might be miles off from the river. He did not know whether West Point was near them. And yet, by his time-table, there was but one station more before he must leave the train.

Now the engine rushed inland for a bit, losing sight of the river, and Magnus studied the time-table again, assuring himself for the twentieth time of the precise hour and minute when he was expected to reach Garrisons. Then as the train drew up at Peekskill, he gazed out at that dingy combination which gathers round a railway station. The engine got its quantum of water, darted on, and then—ah, what could be fairer! Magnus almost shouted with delight as they swept around the curve, with the full south view for a moment, past Anthony's Nose, and with the Dunderberg across the stream.

"What are these mountains called?" he asked of a Peekskill passenger who had taken the seat beside him.

"Highlands—Hudson Highlands," said the man. "You don't belong round here, likely?"

"I never was here before."

"You've come to the right place, then. Aint purtier mountings nowhere. Such a lot o' happenings, too. Now, right here,"—as the train rushed through a deep rock cut,—"just about here, was where Benedict Arnold sneaked off to find the Vulture. And earth nor water didn't nary one on 'em open and swaller him up."

"Then this is Teller's Point!" cried Magnus.

"Teller's Point it is. And up yonder, to your right, is where the scamp was livin', and gettin' his breakfast that mornin', when the Father of his country come, and all but cotched him. Tell you, these old hills has seen things! But now look this way a bit. See that crick over there, and the mill? Fort Montgomery's one side, to the north, and t'other side o' the crick is Fort Clinton; and down there, atween 'em, is where they fit the battle and killed my great grandfather. They do say, the Continentals was that mad they pitched all the Hessians into the crick. Tell you what, young man, it's fine to have one o' the family die in the service. I aint partic'lar about its bein' me, you understand, but some one on 'em."

"But you'd be ready to have it you?" said Magnus, eyeing his new acquaintance.

"Likely I would, if the tug came. Life's life, howsoever, when there aint no special call to get along without it. They're tryin' to learn them boys at West Point how to fight; but la! this here sham work don't go for nothin'. Live in peace till the time comes, say I."

"But you want to be ready for the time," said Magnus.

"Ready?" the man repeated. "Take your pitchfork and go. That's ready enough for me. It did average well, in '76."

"Garri-sons!" sang out the brakeman, flinging back the door. "Garrisons! Ferry to West Point."

And in another minute Magnus was out on the platform, and heard the little ferryboat ringing her bell. He looked eagerly about him, found the right official to take his check, and following that bell, marched down to the Highlander, and went on board.

A down train was nearly due, so there were a few minutes to wait; and Magnus pushed straight on to the little forward deck, and then forgot everything in what he saw.

It was unearthly fair, this bit of the world that lay before him. The lovely green further shore, decked from river side to sky edge in the rich growth and colouring of early summer; the hills but hardly yet in their full depth of green, so that the dark cedars and hemlocks stood out markedly among the tender hues of oaks, hickories, chestnuts, and maples. From the midst of the trees on the table-land rose up chimneys, pointed roofs, round roofs, and domes, which as yet meant nothing to Charlemagne Kindred. The river rolled placidly by, stirred into wavelets by the fresh, sweet breeze; close at hand he could hear the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the boat. All sweet, all strange; and between the two, Magnus very nearly let his head go down.

But now came the thunder of the down train; the inviting ding-dong of the ferryboat made itself once more heard, a little throng of passengers came hurrying on board, and then they were off. Crossing the Rubicon, Magnus felt, if he did not say.

For a few moments still he stood quite alone on the forward deck. How fast the little steamer parted the blue waters that lay between him and his new life! Hilltops to the north, hilltops to the south, Anthony's Nose cutting the river off on the one hand, Martlaer's Rock—the old "East Point" of the maps—closing it in on the other. Before him, West Point, "Tacs," and orders; behind him, the road by which he had come from home.

Then the swing-door slammed, and a bevy of girls came rushing out to the front of the boat. Magnus turned to look at them, then instinctively took a stand further back, where he could gaze less visibly.

Certainly he had seen girls enough to know the genus, but these were a new species. Such hats, such heels, such giggles, such bewildering dresses. Such knots of riband, such spots of velvet, such piles of artificial flowers, such very pretty faces. Not handsome, like Cherry, Magnus said indignantly, calling himself to order; and then began to wonder how Cherry would look dressed so. And even as the thought came, he heard one whisper to the other, "A candidate."

And Magnus felt unreasonably angry. What business had they to pick him out? And how was he a marked man, anyway? But their notice of him was short.

"Look at Jenny!" giggled one, half under her breath, pointing to a girl who leaned on the railing, and never took her eyes from the West Point shore. "He isn't on the watch, sweet child: it's one o'clock, and they're all in the Mess Hall. Don't send such wistful looks on ahead, or they'll mount the hill and spoil his digestion." And she half whistled, half sang:

"You don't call him plain 'Jack' yet, do you, dear?"

"If you could talk a little sense!" murmured the girl at the railing. "I shall never call him 'plain' anything."

The girls choked with laughter, which half rippled out, and half was smothered. Then the talk went on, in the same undertones; not as if it was meant to be heard, and yet which Magnus could not help hearing.

"She's such a Paul Pry! Said to me the other day when we were out walking, 'But you are not in love with any one of the class?' I said, 'No; I'm in love with the whole class.' Oh, dear! it will be too dreadful when they all go!"

"There are always candidates," whispered another, with a glance towards Magnus, and then the boat touched her landing, and the girls hurried on shore.

Magnus did not hurry. He had no quarters to spend on omnibus fare, and no mind at all to be wedged in among those lively ladies. He picked up his bag and walked after the stage as it slowly climbed the hill. A few swift strides would have easily taken him beyond it. But he lingered and loitered, sat down on the tall stone curbing of the road, and tried to find out why he felt so uncomfortable. What if he was a "candidate"? There was Cherry, and the other two girls at home, on tiptoe over that very fact. Why should West Point feel so differently? He had come to learn to serve and to defend his country; to grace her ranks, wherever he might be.

Magnus looked after his stageful of enemies, and seeing that they had turned down towards the south, he quickened his steps, and soon reached the top of the hill. There paused again, partly for strangeness, and partly for wonder. It was all so beautiful, so new.

The grass, close shaven and vividly green, covered the ground on every side; up the slopes, and down in the hollows; with only the cavalry plain lying brown and bare in the sunshine. Buildings, with hardly two alike, were dropped down for the most part in a long, curving line, the end of which he could not see. No people, anywhere, for it was dinner time or lunch time all over the Post; only as Magnus crossed the road to get a nearer view of the buildings, he came upon a very distinguished personage with a gun on his shoulder, pacing aimlessly up and down the sidewalk. His uniform was blue, his "deportment" fierce. "He must be an officer," thought the boy to himself, "and this some special important point he must watch."

Magnus found a seat under a friendly tree, and studied him. That slow, ceaseless, back-and-forth march, fascinated the quicksilver youngster. Orioles whistled over his head, sparrows sang, catbirds cried out in fear or shouted for joy. Further off was the whistle and roar of trains, and the bell of the ferryboat. In every pause the breeze rustled softly by, and the river plashed against the shore. He had never seen anything so lovely in all his life. But now, where were all those voices?—a mild roar of talk. Plainly, in that small grey stone castle just over the way.

He strolled on again, passed the old Academic, and came out upon the plain. And then for a while he forgot everything but what his eyes took in.

The smooth greensward, irregularly framed in with trees, and having here and there a slight undulation which only heightened its beauty, lay shimmering in the summer sun. On one side, behind the trees, the row of houses went its winding way; on the other, the trees drew together rather thinly in a little wood; but Magnus just then gave no heed to either. His eyes followed the green right on to a sort of jumping-off place, where the ground dropped suddenly all along the line. There too was a closer-set clump of trees; and from among them, white and slim, rose the tall flagstaff, bearing aloft the beautiful banner of the Stars and Stripes.

There was not much wind, and the great flag hung in those half-way curves which are more picturesque than the full expansion. Softly twisting, turning, its mighty folds; the red, white, and blue seeming ever in playful strife for the upper hand, which should show most and which give way.

Magnus looked at it, and then instantly bared his head. He had never seen so large a flag, nor ever one that floated with such clear assumption of its rights; such careless, easy grace in claiming and keeping them. "Make a friend of the flag," Mr. Wayne had said, and from this moment the boy took it to his very heart. Fight for it? Aye, that he would!

He walked slowly across the plain, still watching the flag, until he stood close beneath it, and could hear the soft flapping of the halyards as they beat against the pole. But now it was fairyland everywhere.

All about him, spotting the green grass, were guns: big guns and little guns; shining black and mouldy green; with piles of wicked-looking black shot. The guns themselves, like many other senders-forth of mischief, looked sleepy and innocent enough. Tall trees rose up, bordering the little platform, from which the ground fell off steeply towards the river; some younger and softer tree heads showing there and hindering the further view. But Magnus wanted no more views just then.

He stood leaning back against the white flagstaff, and for the moment felt content. Over his head the lovely folds of the flag curled and drooped and stretched away upon the wind; and again, as Magnus looked up at it, he doffed his hat. Then he found himself wondering what they did to the grass in this part of the world, to make it so smooth and soft and even. Then two or three uniforms went by, and he wondered over them: it was in truth fairyland. Oh, if the folks at home could only see it! And then, suddenly, fairyland shifted its place, and fled away far out West, to the lonely regions of Barren Heights. Oh, if—not that they were here, but that he was there!—just back once more at home! The boy's hat came down low over his eyes. What did that old flag care for him? And what did he care for grass, or views, or uniforms, or anything else, but only just to see mother, and the girls, and Cherry?

"Bracing up" is often so useful a process that one must not be too hard upon the agents that oblige us thereto; and this time the agents were very comely. A cluster of young girls, clad in all the pretty frippery of the day, came giggling along the walk towards the flagstaff. It was not, Say something and laugh at it—or, Say something to make the others laugh; but there was a chronic state of giggle, as if life were such a very droll thing that no occasional outburst could do it justice. The walk passed the flagstaff with some little green space between; and they came flickering along (I am really at a loss for a word); changing places, pulling each other, pushing each other, whispering, sometimes half-dancing, down the walk.

It is needless to say that Magnus "braced up" immediately; and still leaning against the flagstaff, watched them from under his hat.

These were not his fair foes of the ferryboat, whom he had supposed were rare specimens: now he was to learn that the species is widespread and common, in June. Again he heard the obnoxious word, "candidate."

"Holding up the flagstaff, as usual," said the leading girl. "I do verily believe they think that's what they come for."

"Hush!" said another. "Don't talk so loud. He might hear."

"He'll hear worse than that, before he's been here many days," said the first. "I'll just break it to him by degrees. Say, girls, let's go and give him his 'technical,' and get the start of Devlin Fritz."

"Do be quiet!" said a third. "No wonder they all call you 'Miss Saucy.'"

"It's something to have them all call you anything," returned the young lady with much content.

"Oh, that's true!" said another. "I declare, girls, I think it's too bad. Here I've spent ten pounds of candy since I came, and I haven't got one special cadet yet."

"Huyler's?" demanded Miss Saucy.

"Huyler's."

"Get Dulce to hand you over Mr. Day. She bores the poor boy to death. I know he'd be glad of almost any change," said Miss Flirt.

"Or she might try a 'candied date,'" suggested Miss Saucy with a sideway gesture.

In the small babel of words and laughter that followed this, the girls drifted away out of hearing, and the sweet summer air was silent again. The leaves clapped hands softly, the folds of the beautiful flag curled and played as before over the head of the young candidate. But in the heart of Magnus himself, just now, the summer grace and peace found no foothold. Rather, his thoughts were like a November gale, with the air full of dust and rubbish.

What if he was a candidate? Men had to be, when they first came, he supposed. And what if he did mean to hold up the flagstaff? who had a better right? Magnus looked up defiantly, and made a profound reverence to the Stars and Stripes. All the same, he edged away as he saw another party of girls approaching, and went and sat down on a long iron seat among the tree shadows. One thing was certain: his sisters—and Cherry—should never set foot here, if he could help it. He had been thinking—if only they could get money enough—how fine it would be to have them all come and see this beautiful place. Such walks as they could take! But West Point just swarmed with girls already. And at this point of his meditations Magnus was quite sure that he heard "candidate" again, from another jocund voice.

"Say, let's find out."

"What for?" said a pink vision.

"Fun," said the white one: "Oh, I know the regulation questions." And but half under her breath, the pretty tones sang out:

"Who cares?" said the other girl, hurrying her along. "Come, we are late."

That party passed, followed, it must be owned, by some rather fierce looks from Magnus. Then, slowly strolling down the pathway, came two more: a girl, in the height of every fashion, and a tall fellow in close-fitting grey coat and the whitest of unwrinkled trousers. Over his head he carried the girl's scarlet and lace parasol, shielding himself as carefully as if she had brought it for that express purpose. As perhaps she had: who knows? At all events, the little lady gazed up at the dark sunburnt face, with its vivid background, as if nothing could be too good to screen such a complexion. And he looked down at her—well, women never get just what they give, but he did look very admiringly; as if the delicate face needed nothing, not even a parasol.

Whatever was the reason, this couple made Magnus more irate than any that had gone before. There was an instant antagonism to the tall cadet. His uniform was so becoming, and fitted so well; the glancing buttons were so attractive; the gold bars on the upper arm had such a distinguished look; the young stranger set him down at once for a coxcomb. But there was a little envy in it all. How cleverly he cut down the military stride to keep step with the girl's mincing feet; a difficult thing, as Magnus knew.

"Taking care of his own precious face, and letting hers burn!" quoth the young civilian; but all the same, he would have given more money than he was likely to have soon to be in just such guise himself, with Cherry by his side. He'd show that fellow a thing or two.

He was getting homesick again. All these people, with their friends and their fun, made him feel so desolately far away from everybody. He slouched his hat down further, and wandered off again, not looking much where he went; just following the path beneath his feet. Slowly round the guns, then on along the bank, and there found more seats. There was no sound of voice or step here, and Magnus sat down wearily, and leaned his head on his arm, and tried to fight the homesickness. For the moment he despised the whole race of girls, Cherry, of course, excepted. "Simpering up into that fellow's face, as if there had never been a man before, nor would be again."

Yes, there was certainly a twinge of envy in Charlemagne's heart. The tall cadet had carried himself with such careless, graceful erectness that there was no relief to be had out of calling him a "ramrod." And his white trousers were so white, and so without a wrinkle.

"I'd like to know how he manages that," thought Magnus, the envy passing into wonder. With him, white trousers had been always uncertain and short-lived things. And now his thoughts flew far away again, over hills and prairie land; and once more he was going through wild exploits at home; getting himself wet and muddy, and having the girls laugh at him from the midst of their intact fresh draperies. Magnus drew a long, heavy sigh.

Then he roused himself and sat up; for again those measured steps, the peculiar tread of which he was just learning to know, sounded near by; and another cadet, from the opposite direction, came down the walk. He glanced at Magnus, then crossed the grass, and took his seat on the other end of the same bench; but said not a word, only gazed placidly up the river. And now, as one always looks whither another is looking, so also did Magnus.

There were no trees in the way here, and the view was open. Close at his feet the ground fell sharply down to the level of the siege battery, where a dozen guns and mortars kept grim watch, their ugly black mouths pointed up-stream. Beyond the green parapet nothing made much show till you reached the river itself, which for ten miles here came flowing gently down, with no sharp turns; the whole of "Martlaer's Reach" lay full in sight. In the far, far distance, an irregularly broken line of blue peaks brushed softly against the sky. At their feet lay the green wooded slopes of the Newburgh hills, with Newburgh itself sparkling in the sun. The line stretched across so straight from side to side, as if there the river began.

Nearer, and on either hand, rising in abrupt masses from the water's edge, lay Butter Hill and Breakneck, Bull Hill and Crow Nest; pillars of the north Highland gateway. All green, from brow to base, except where every now and then the granite framework of the mountains pushed itself through in crags and ridges. The green was exquisite, with all the lush hues of June.

Between the hills the flood of the great river poured along unchecked, until where in the very foreground the grey-green bluff of Martlaer's Rock thrust itself out athwart the stream; bringing it with one sharp turn to its very narrowest and deepest part. For a little distance then, in front of Magnus, the river ran east and west—along the Rock; then took another short turn, and went racing south; the lovely "Shaw-na-taw-ty," that "flows toward the midday." Between the river and the homesick boy lay only the broken hillside and the silent guns.

There were no human voices, either, but a chance medley of sweet sounds from other throats. Song sparrows in their rollicking glee, with the homespun twitter of a chipping sparrow, giving her brood their first outing. Robins kept up their changing chorus; crows cawed; among the distant trees you could hear the thrush bells now and then. The indescribable sighs and murmurs and trills of the summer wind, the soft touches of the mighty river along its banks, filled every moment of unappropriated time.

Magnus forgot everything, as he looked and listened. June threw her warm spell over him, and for the minute again he was content.

"Yes, that can't be beat," remarked his neighbour in grey, who had been watching him closely. "Look at it all you want to; now is a good time." "I think every time is good, for such a view," Magnus said, facing round.

"When do you report?" asked the other abruptly.

"To-morrow." Magnus answered the question, perceiving the next instant that again he was noted as a candidate.

"Well, next week, if you are here, you'll find some other hills lying round promiscuous, and you won't think quite so much about these."

"How did you know I was to report at all?"

The cadet laughed.

"No mistaking a candidate," he said. "You have the real all-overish look about you. And no need to huff up at it, either. I've been there myself, so I know."

"Do you like it here?" said Magnus, the flush cooling down.

"Fair to middling. When I'm up in math., keep out of Con., and don't get skinned too often."

This was high Dutch to Magnus. But he was at the age when pertinent questions are far harder to ask than the impertinent; and nothing would have made him show his ignorance. He went back to the last subject.

"You say you know, because you've been a candidate yourself; but who tells all these girls?"

"Oh, the girls!" said the cadet. "Yes, there's a good many girls here; and what some of 'em don't know, and don't do, wouldn't fill a collar-box. Even Crinkem's head could hold it."

"Who is Crinkem?"

"My respected classmate. Absolutely worried along so far, and gone on furlough. Nobody can guess how he did it, either. Who are you?"

"Charlemagne Kindred."

The cadet gave a long, "Whew!"

"Is that all you have for week days?" he asked. "Not quite," said Magnus, smiling in spite of himself. "They call me Magnus, at home."

"Won't do you any good here," said the other, shaking his head. "Name's got to go down in full, if it was Beelzebub Nebuchadnezzar. You'll be rechristened for common use."

"Do they always do that?" said Magnus, looking grave.

"Mostly."

Magnus reddened.

"I cannot see what the Faculty have to do with my name," he said. "It's not their business."

"Not the Faculty, as you call them, at all," said the cadet, "but your beloved fellow-students. They will take almost as anxious care of you as will the Com."

"Oh, the other cadets!" said Magnus loftily. "I'll take care of them."

"I would," said the man in grey with dry emphasis. "Not too many at once. There's quite a few of them."

Magnus sat studying the north view without seeing it.

"But how is this?" he said suddenly. "You say your classmate has gone on furlough—why aren't you gone too?"

The cadet shrugged his shoulders.

"Some men leave their country for their country's good," he said, "and some stay in it, same at same. I lost my furlough. But anyhow Crinkem went ahead of time; folks sick at home. He's always in luck."

"Lost it," Magnus repeated. "How could you?"

"Easy enough, if you run against the Tacs in a tight place. Lose anything here, except your heart and your appetite."

But to these last words Magnus gave no heed; his whole soul was astir with this new idea. Lose his furlough! Not go home even at the end of the two long years!

"Can you do that?" he said. "Is it often done?"

"Not so very. Oh, you can do it, fast enough, if you have a run of bad luck, as I did."

"I don't believe in luck," Magnus answered him.

"Don't you? Well, you will, when you've been here a month."

And now a party of strollers came by the seat; another much-dressed young damsel, set in a framework of grey uniforms. As they passed, the lady bowed; Magnus's friend stood up and doffed his cap, the other cadets also touching theirs; and again (against his will) Magnus admired and envied the easy precision of every movement. He wondered if he could take off his hat with that peculiar swing?—and said no, to himself, at once. But he would have it before furlough—and how astonished Cherry would be!

"Been round Flirtation?" demanded his new acquaintance abruptly, watching the three who went slowly on towards where the path left the brow of the hill, and ran down among the cedars.

"Round flirtation!"

The cadet laughed.

"You needn't look so scared," he said—"it's only one of our walks. At least it isn't generally anything else. Come on, and I'll show it to you. I don't see what Fitch is after with that girl; cutting out poor little Day. And he can talk a dozen to Day's one. Come along."

So they rose up, and stepped on at a good pace, till they had the others in full sight again; dropping then into the like easy saunter. At least it was easy to one, but for Magnus like being in bonds; and he was constantly getting ahead, checking himself, and falling back. "I'll teach them how to walk, when I'm once in," he thought. Then aloud:

"We should call this slow doings out West," he said.

"Yes," said his companion. "Generally want to get there, out West, I suppose?"

"We certainly do."

"All right. Well, those folks don't."

It was such a self-evident fact about the three in front, that Magnus looked from them to the man at his side, and his eyes flashed with fun. They both laughed.

"Do none of them ever want to get anywhere?" said Magnus.

"Not often—on Flirtation. Spoil the fun, you know."

"Well, you say that is Mr. Fitch, and the other is Mr. Day, then who are you?" said Magnus.

"To be sure!" said the cadet with a lazy drawl. "I've been wondering how long a Westerner could get along without asking."

If Magnus grew hot at this implied charge, he had no chance to show it then. A sudden drum-call, clear and loud, sent its racket through the still air. The cadet stopped short.

"There!" he said; "that beastly review is to come off, after all."

And without another word, he turned and darted up the hill. In another minute, Fitch and Day went speeding by, at the same keen, measured pace, which struck Magnus as unlike anything he had ever seen. A few bounds brought him up to the green level of the plain, where he could watch the three, as they hurried along to the grey barracks. Nor those three alone. From every side, from all directions, the grey and white came hurrying in. Hurrying—yet always with the same even, regular, swift step; the foot lifted just so high, the right arm swinging just so far; and with no seeming effort. Magnus saw one and another of them take off his cap to some lady as he flew by, but without the least pause or break. Only two or three very much belated men dropped into a walk as they neared the barracks. As Rosamund said, "It was too late to get up early."