Miss Susan B. Stevens.

Dear Sister Elizabeth,—You spoke of Mr. Maynard thinking I ought to be content with my present standing, and ought not to expect to stand higher. Be that as it may, one thing is certain, that I will never cease to try for number one till I have got it again, and were I convinced that it was almost an impossibility, I would still try. I like the reply of General Miller to his superior officer in the last war, when, being directed to attack and carry a battery of cannon on an almost inaccessible eminence, the silencing of which was indispensable, made this answer only, ‘I will try,’ and with the most determined courage carried it in an almost incredibly short space of time. I don’t like backing out; it is contemptible. I shall, however, be contented with whatever standing is given me, and since I have been here I have always endeavored to prepare myself for any contingency. This is absolutely necessary. It is the only way to guard against envy, jealousy, and all those mean and degrading passions to which the human heart is prone. Harry Biddle and myself are now the only members of our class who are contending for head, yet I don’t believe there are two men in the class on better terms. He is one of the finest young men I ever knew; and although he was very much disappointed last June, he never uttered a word showing he harbored the least ill-will against me. When the result of the June examination was known, he came and congratulated me, but told me he meant to rise me. In January it appeared he had redeemed his word, and so I went and congratulated him, and balanced the account. This is the only way to get along, for if we allow those passions I have mentioned to obtain the least ascendency over us, it will render us disagreeable and unhappy. There are eleven of us in four rooms, which are contiguous to each other, who are all good friends, and we enjoy ourselves as much as any other eleven men in the corps.

At the end of the second academic year he again stood head of his class, and had the pleasure of announcing his success to his father. He stood seventeen on the conduct roll, having eleven demerits.

West Point, June 18, 1836.

Dear Father,—I received a letter from Oliver a few days since. He says he is “going a-gunning” on his birthday, and wishes me to be at home to keep him company. I wish this could be the case, but under present circumstances I shall not come home until the last of July, and my leave will last but four weeks only. I did not know this till about a week ago, and I have deferred writing to be able to give you my standing. The examination was closed yesterday. My standing is first in mathematics, first in French, and fourth in drawing, which puts me head in general merit. Mr. Biddle is second in M., third in F., and first in D. I presume you will be satisfied with this. You recollect that Mr. Biddle rose me in French last January, and I suppose that rising him again this June will make it all right again. I had very good luck indeed, and my recitation in mathematics was much better than at any previous examination. We march into camp on Tuesday. It is to be called Camp Poinsett, as a compliment to the Secretary of War.

In July he returned home, after an absence of two years, to spend the brief leave of a month. He had foregone one the previous year, partly on the score of economy, at his father’s suggestion, and it was with a heart full of joy and glad anticipations that he hastened to visit the loved ones at home, and the dear and familiar scenes of his childhood.

Isaac must have keenly enjoyed this visit. His sisters were proud of him, and overjoyed at his return. He had surpassed the most sanguine hopes of his friends, and on every hand met with a warm welcome. His success at the academy, his cadet uniform, and his erect, soldierly bearing invested him in the eyes of the community with the new-found respect and importance accorded to rising and promising young manhood. His cousin Henry, writing after his return to the Point, says: “If you look as dignified as you did when you were here, I do not wonder that you are beyond suspicion. I should like very much to see one hundred cadets playing at football. Do you run as erect as you walk?” West Point drill and discipline, however, had not abated his adventurous spirit, or love of the sports natural to his age. Sailing on the Great Pond with a number of companions, and the wind having died out, for pastime he climbed to the top of the mast, which suddenly broke and let him fall headlong into the lake. On another occasion he was poling a boat with his little brother up the Cochichewick towards the “Hatch,” as the point where the stream flowed out of the Great Pond was called, when the oar stuck fast in the tenacious mud of the bottom, and, grasping it too firmly, Isaac lost his foothold, and was dragged over the stern into the mingled mud and water, to the sad defilement of his speckless white cadet trousers. Exasperated at this ridiculous accident, he swore lustily, calling upon Oliver in no gentle tones to bring back the boat.

CHAPTER IV
WEST POINT.—LAST TWO YEARS

Returning to the Point after this brief respite, the young cadet resumed his studies with his accustomed vigor. He was appointed assistant professor of mathematics, a position of additional labor as well as honor, which he retained to the end of his course. Moreover, he took an active part in the Dialectic Society, which as a “plebe” he looked forward to joining. In a letter to Mr. Hazen he recounts his early efforts in debate:—