"This is my son Max, sir, a candidate for cadetship," he said, laying a hand affectionately upon Max's shoulder, "and I see he is much interested in this his first sight of one who will, he hopes, soon be his commander."
"Ah! a son of yours, Raymond? But I might have guessed it from his striking likeness to his father," the commandant said in a pleased and interested tone, grasping the boy's hand warmly as he spoke. "I have little doubt that he will pass," he added with a smile, "for he should inherit a good mind, and he looks bright and intelligent,—his father's son mentally as well as physically."
Max coloured with pleasure. "It is exactly what I want to be, sir," he said,—"as like my father as possible." And his eyes sought that father's face with a look of love and reverence that was pleasant to see.
The Captain met it with a smile of fatherly affection. "One's children are apt to be partial judges," he said; then changing the subject of conversation, he stated the desire of those under his escort to see the Naval Academy and the Naval vessels lying at anchor in the harbour.
The commandant, saying he had some hours at his disposal, undertook to be their escort; and thus they saw everything under the most favourable auspices.
The drill of the artillery battalion seemed to Max and Lulu very similar to that they had witnessed at West Point, but was scarcely the less exciting and interesting. They watched it all with sparkling eyes and eager, animated looks, Max hoping soon to take part in it, and not at all regretting his choice of a profession. He was not a bashful lad, though by no means conceited or forward, and his father had assured him that if he retained his self-possession, not giving way to nervousness or fright, he was fully competent to pass.
The boy had unbounded confidence in his father's word, which helped him to so fully retain his self-possession that he found little or no difficulty in answering every question put to him,—for the Captain had been very careful to drill him perfectly, making him thorough in all the branches required,—and passed most successfully.
He was also pronounced by the examining physician physically sound and of robust constitution. He was accepted, took the oath of allegiance, and felt himself several inches taller than before.
Captain Raymond attended to all the business matters, saw the room and room-mate selected for his son, and did all that could be done to secure the boy's comfort and welfare. The parting from Mamma Vi, his sisters, and baby brother was quite hard for the lad's affectionate heart, but he managed to go through it almost without shedding tears, though one or two would come when Gracie clung weeping about his neck; but the last, the final farewell to his father, was hardest of all. In vain he reminded himself that it was not a final separation, that he might hope for long visits at home at some future time, that letters would pass frequently between them, and a visit be paid him now and then by that dearly loved, honoured, and revered parent; just now he could only remember that the daily, hourly intercourse he had found so delightful was over, probably forever in this world.
The Captain read it all in his boy's speaking countenance, and deeply sympathized with his son; indeed his own heart was heavy over the thought that this, his first-born and well-beloved child was now to pass from under his protecting care and try the world for himself. He felt that he must bestow upon him a few more words of loving, fatherly counsel.