Think truly, and thy thoughts
Shall the world's famine feed;
Speak truly, and each word of thine
Shall be a fruitful seed.
Live truly, and thy life shall be
A great and noble creed.
--DR. BONAR.
No, Cadet Kindred was in no mood for "other girls" that day; had he not
just been writing his heart out to Cherry? and was not her last letter
lying _perdu_ up his sleeve? You could not expect him to have any
relish for common doings.
So with the easy, steady gait which I wish all men might copy, Magnus
went swiftly on to the west end of the officers' row. Past Miss Saucy,
who signalled him from her friend's porch; past Miss Bee, who bowed
from an open window; past the talk and the laughter, the scent of
chocolate, the certainty of sugar plums. Then at the last house of
the old "west limits" he turned sharply round the corner, and began
to mount the hill. Small danger of "other girls" here, or of other
men, unless a few homesick strollers like himself; and these were
passed with only a nod. The real denizens of the roadway were wild and
sweet as the day. Red squirrels and brown chipmunks darted across the
path, whisked into holes, or chattered in the treetops; "the sound of
dropping nuts," the rustle of leaves, the voice of a crow or a gull,
only made the stillness more exquisite. The rocks were cushioned
with mosses; the ferns and the early fallen leaves of chestnut and
butternut made a lovely carpet all about; the clear air seemed strung
and tuned to the last pitch of harmony. Far down, down, the winding
river, in its varying shades of blue and grey, flowed silently among
the hills, flecked with the white wings of two or three sloops and
schooners; but all too distant for the murmur of the little waves, the
creaking of cordage, to reach him.
Cadet Kindred paused several times at points where the view opened;
then addressing himself to the hill again, and choosing the old broken,
steep-pitched track of a hundred years ago. The Revolutionary style
suited his mood to-day; and he sped up the last steep incline with a
will; passed through the old sallyport, sprang up the parapet, and sat
down to gaze.
At his feet the rough hillside went in tumbling, breaking fashion down
to the little fringe of houses in the officers' row; and beyond them
the green plain spread out its fair expanse, with Barracks and Academic
Library and Chapel, walling it in on the south. Elsewhere the river,
and beyond that again the hills. From above the trees on Trophy Point
the fair, curling folds of the flag, with an action which would have
been lazy had there been any call for haste, lifted and drooped at the
top of the tall white staff. Magnus Kindred stood up again and saluted,
with a flourish.
"Yes, old friend," he said, "we are sworn comrades now, whatever
happens. One full summer more for me here, and then away to the ends of
the earth: but that blessed old rag will fly just as well at San Carlos
as at West Point, and be just as ready to read me a lesson."
And with that, Magnus stretched himself out on the green slope, pulled
forth Cherry's letter, and read it through twice.
Then he studied the flag again; musing over things he had heard and
read. Of the men who ran up the colours when their ship was sinking
in the deep, dark sea; of standards dyed with the life-blood of their
defenders. Of the failures that yet were a triumphant success.
"My half day's work is done,
And this is all my part.
I give a patient God
My patient heart:
"And grasp his banner still,
Though all its blue be dim;
These stripes, no less than stars,
Lead after him."
"I wonder if that fellow loved anybody," Magnus questioned with
himself, a stricture coming over his heart at thought of the young
soldier under whose death-pillow the brave, pitiful lines were found.
"And I wonder if I could have said it in his place? But that is
what it means. That is just what I have to do for the old Stars and
Stripes--and for the Lord's banner."
And secure against the criticisms of chipmunks and chickadees, Magnus
began at the old ballad of the "Star-Spangled Banner," and sang it
straight through.
"Well sung, and to the purpose," said a pleasant voice, and Magnus
started up, to find a gentleman close behind him; and, as he saw at a
glance, no less a person than his friend of the candidate journey.
It was plain, however, that Mr. Wayne did not know him. How could he
find in the close-cropped hair the wayward, curly locks of two years
ago? or see, in this happy compound of uniform and drill, the homesick
boy whom he had cheered and comforted?
"Do not let me disturb you," said the newcomer, taking a seat near
Magnus. "I was wandering round among the old walls, thinking how much
had crumbled and how much grown up since their day, not knowing there
was anyone up here but myself. And when suddenly the dear old song
rang out, I could not help coming near to listen. Has it come into
fashion again, in these latter days?"
"Not especially, that I know of," said Magnus. "But I was brought up on
it."
"So was I. And where were you brought up?"
Magnus named his State.
"Strange!" said Mr. Wayne. "The first boy I ever spoke to who was
coming to West Point was from that State; and now so is also the first
full-fledged cadet I meet with here."
"Yes, we have a good representation from all our districts," said
Magnus.
"Do you men from the same State always hold together in any special
way?"
"Against all the rest of the world, yes," said Magnus. "But we often
choose our chums from the Antipodes."
"For private and personal reasons, rather than public; I see. But then
of course you know them all, more or less; and so you must know the man
I am after."
"A relation of yours, sir?" Magnus inquired gravely.
"Oh, no, not at all; only an acquaintance of a day and a night. But I
should like to see him again very much; in fact that was why I stopped
over a day here. I wonder if he is in the corps still? Must be, I
think; he did not look like a fellow to be 'found' in anything,--unless
caution and self-control."
"That's a bad showing," said Magnus. "I'd rather chance it in math."
"You must know him, of course, if he is here," Mr. Wayne went on;
"for he was from your State, I know. I had his name down--and I also
had my pocket-book stolen! Can you tell over the list of your State
delegation?"
So Magnus began.
"Smith, J., 2d; Jones, L.; Devius, E.; Smith, T. A.; Marston,
Kindred----"
"That's the man!" broke in Mr. Wayne; "Charlemagne Kindred. And you say
he is here still?"
"Oh, yes, he's here," said Magnus, with a half groan.
"Doing well?"
"Doing all sorts of ways. He is just back from furlough, and as blue as
a mouldy cheese."
"Back from furlough! Ah, then he has seen his mother again. That ought
to cure him of doing 'all sorts of ways.' Where does he stand in his
class?"
"Oh, he keeps out of the Immortals," said Magnus with a shrug. "Might
max it oftener, if he didn't read so many magazines and write so many
letters."
"Letters, hey? These 'left behind' girls have a good deal to answer
for. And yet such a trust as a woman's life and happiness, ought to
steady any man, and put him at his best."
"He has four just such trusts," said Magnus. "I don't know that they'd
all die if he went to the bad, but two of them would."
"Four--you seem to know him very well," said Mr. Wayne, turning to look
more narrowly at his companion.
"I don't know, sir: sometimes I think I do, sometimes not. He takes me
all by surprise every now and then," said Magnus.
But with that he turned his eyes full upon Mr. Wayne, and the
recognition was instant.
"And this is you!" said Mr. Wayne. "I see it now. Indeed I think I felt
it all along. Sit over there, and let me look at you."
So Magnus changed his seat for another, and went through a new sort of
inspection; differing _in toto_ from that of any member of the tactical
department. For Mr. Wayne's eyes passed rapidly over grey cloth and
bell buttons (Magnus feeling quite sure the while that any dulness or
disorder there would have been noted) and came to the young face, with
a look so searching and wise that the sunburnt cheeks reddened, and the
eyes went down. Only for a moment, however: then they met the search
squarely, and with a laugh.
"Yes, sir," said Cadet Kindred, "that is just about what I am."
Privately, Mr. Wayne had been thinking to himself that just what he saw
was a remarkably fine-looking fellow, whom anybody might be proud to
call son or brother. For the eyes were steady and true; and when the
face broke in a smile or a laugh the mouth had the same utterly clean
look which had marked it two years ago. Mr. Wayne noted it all, and
drew a deep breath of rejoicing.
"I give most humble and hearty thanks," he said, reverently lifting his
hat. Magnus sprang up and came back to his old seat.
"Were you so doubtful of me, sir?" he said. "And what made you
doubtful?"
"Not doubtful of you, my boy, but certain of the world. And the
world--even this little world here--is a hard place."
"This is an awful place!" said Magnus.
"You think so now, because you are just back from furlough. But you
will find the world power in full force still, when you get to some
far-off frontier post. Very few lives have a steady fair breeze
straight into heaven. 'Ye must take the wind in your face if ye will
fetch Christ,' said old Samuel Rutherford; and most of us find it so.
But then, 'How sweet is the wind that bloweth out of the airth where
Christ is.'"
And Magnus remembered instantly that ever since he came to West Point,
he had hailed the west wind, because it seemed to come from home.
"How can you always tell, sir, whence it comes?" he asked suddenly.
"Being disagreeable doesn't prove a thing right."
"Truly no. But you know what Christ himself is, Mr. Kindred; study
him, his character, his will, his throne. It is not hard to match your
colours, if you are really so minded. West Point is not so unlike
everywhere else as you seem to think. I remember a young man who went
from here to Texas, and wrote back that he was still fighting the
world, the flesh, and the devil. Finding the world perhaps a little
less down there, but the flesh and the devil about as usual. And so you
will find it. 'The kingdom of God is within you'--not outside: whether
at Governor's Island, or San Carlos."
"What makes you speak of San Carlos, sir?" Magnus said, with almost a
start.
"One of the worst posts in the army, is it not?--or counted so?"
"I am not afraid of San Carlos," said Magnus decidedly. "The devil
always has to clear out, when an angel comes in."
Mr. Wayne turned and looked at him.
"So!" he said; "that is all settled, is it? But no, my young sir: Satan
held a dispute with an archangel once, long enough for some pretty
strong words on both sides. And you are going to take an angel to San
Carlos!"
Almost just what Mr. Erskine had said.
"Were you ever there, sir?" Magnus asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Doesn't the place need angels?"
And now Mr. Wayne laughed.
"You have the best of me there," he said. "Yes, not a doubt of that, it
does. And it is the very place that the white wings love to brighten
if they can. But Mr. Kindred, if your particular angel is to live at
San Carlos--or anywhere--and not break her heart; spread her white
wings and fly away from earth and you together; you have got to fight
the devil yourself; hand to hand, and wherever you find him. These
earthly angels are not quite so robust as the old painters make out the
heavenly to be."
"She is the very centre of my life!" cried Magnus. But Mr. Wayne sighed.
"It happened once," he said, "that a young graduate of West Point
brought his three-months' bride not to San Carlos, but to Fortress
Monroe. Of course, the 'pleasant fellows' of the garrison went to work
to entertain him, and one of them told me this story:
"'We had a little supper party,' he said. 'Not very large, but correct
and choice; and we kept it up pretty late; and X. Y. got more than he
could manage gracefully. So some of the stronger heads among us set out
to get him home. Late, as I said; servants asleep, lights out, and I
guess we knocked and rang more than once. Then X. Y.'s young wife came
down, candle in hand, to let him in. Poor girl--I did feel sorry for
her when I saw her white face, as the candle flared out upon him.'"
There came up before Charlemagne Kindred, as his friend spoke, the
vision of another face; so blanched, so stricken in its grief, and all
for him. He bowed his head upon his hands.
Mr. Wayne asked never a word. He looked at the fine young man beside
him, not knowing just what he might have touched, and then away over
the fair hills and the soft flowing river. What a world! Peace written
everywhere on the exquisite setting; and everywhere in the picture the
sharp life and death conflict. Then the glad words in the Revelation
made answer:
"And I saw, and, behold, a white horse; and he that sat on him had a
bow: and he went forth, conquering and to conquer."
"Amen!" Mr. Wayne said aloud: adding half under his breath: "'Oh that
thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down, that the
mountains might flow down at thy presence!'"
Magnus looked up in surprise.
"Only an old habit of mine," Mr. Wayne said, smiling at him. "I live so
much alone, that I very often talk to myself for lack of a listener."
"Do you want to see these mountains flow down?" Magnus asked, gazing in
his turn at the fair hills.
"Not these in themselves; only I long for all which the prophet's words
imply. To see the crooked made straight, and the rough places plain;
to hear the royal proclamation of the Prince of Peace sound out across
this burdened earth; one could be willing to have 'every mountain and
island' moved out of their places. To have that trumpet blast fill all
the air:
"'The kingdoms of this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of
his Christ; and he shall reign for ever and ever.'"
"No more miserable captives to the power of evil; no more strong men
'whom Satan hath bound at his own will."
"No midnight shades, no clouded sun,
But sacred, high, eternal noons."
"How naturally the words follow:
"'We give thee thanks, O Lord, because thou hast taken to thee thy
great power, and hast reigned.'"
Then Magnus began and told him the whole story; pouring out details,
and not sparing himself in the least. And Mr. Wayne listened in deepest
silence, with a grave, tender face which drew on confidence. Magnus did
not once name Cherry, only at the end he said:
"I told her everything. And if I thought I should ever again make her
look as she did then, I think I would shoot myself."
"Powder is very cheap," Mr. Wayne said slowly. "It is the meanest,
smallest, silliest back door through which a man ever shirked his
difficulties. But to live a strong life, to have one's self in hand
and keep a tight rein, that costs, and costs tremendously; demands
a man's whole will-power, and the mighty grace of God. There is no
promise whatever to the one who runs away; they are all: 'To him that
overcometh.'"
"Yes sir, I know," Magnus answered him. "But instead of costing, it
seems to me the only life that pays."
"And where do you get dividends, but from investments?" said Mr. Wayne
quickly. "You gain from what you put in: knowledge from study, health
from exercise, advance from toil. You bone discipline, and you stand
one; you bone mathematics, and you max it every time."
"No, you don't," said Magnus. "Not some of us."
"Yes you do. Not all just alike, perhaps; one man puts in more brains
than another, and so maybe gets larger returns; but the slower fellow
maxes it _for him_; the dividends are as large as the stock will
warrant. And to my mind, that is the only ambition worth a copper. I've
no patience with this trying to get ahead of somebody else in any line.
Get ahead of yourself; break your own record."
"Not making other men your measure," Magnus said.
"No. That's the way Paul puts it: 'I press toward the mark for the
prize'; not to get ahead of Peter or James or John. The colour markers
always in advance, flagging out new ground."
"What do you count a man's colour markers, sir?" Magnus said, looking
amused.
"Perhaps clean purpose of heart and loyalty to God would come near
it. The Great Captain has thrown open to you--to every young man--a
wondrous Promised Land. He says: 'Go in and possess it. Ye are well
able to overcome.' The land is not all 'fish and cucumbers and melons,'
with a good deal of garlic, like the Egypt degradation and bondage; but
'a goodly land of springs and fountains, of oil olive and honey; whose
stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.' I do
not believe you cadets are half aggressive enough."
"In what way, sir?"
"Every way. Suppose your colour markers had been up to their duty on
that sad night, and you pressing forward for the Lord's 'Well done.'"
"Yes," Magnus answered, with a thrill of pain that somehow got into his
voice.
"Or suppose," Mr. Wayne went on, laying a tender hand on the young
man's shoulder, "suppose you had been praying for those other men whose
ways you knew; working with them, persuading them into the service of
Christ?"
"Oh, that could not be," Mr. Kindred said decidedly. "At least, I might
pray for them, of course, but I could not say much."
"Why not?"
"Against cadet code, sir. We let each other pretty well alone."
"Cadet code!" Mr. Wayne repeated. "You tease each other now and then, I
fancy?"
"Always!"
"And laugh at each other?"
"Without stint."
"Perhaps introduce each other occasionally?"
"Why, of course, sir!" Magnus answered.
"And probably the cadet code would permit you to pull a man out of the
river, or tell him the barracks were ablaze? It is framed only against
the important things, hey?"
"Don't you call it important to pull a man out of the river?" Magnus
asked, with a laugh.
"Rather. Nothing like pulling him into the kingdom."
The clouds sailed silently by, river and hill darkening and brightening
as the shadows fell and passed; the leaves rustled softly among the oak
branches and stirred with a different music among the pines. Then from
far down below sounded a drum--Magnus started up.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne!" he said earnestly. "Come to the guard-house
before call to quarters. I must go."
"I will walk down with you," said his friend.
"But I must run!"
And away he went, springing down the hill through every short cut that
could be found; the grey and white showing, and hiding, and coming out
again further on.
Mr. Wayne watched him with great interest, taking his own pace the
while down the hill; and now, as he went, from every other quarter came
just such flying figures. From the woods, from Flirtation, from the
river; from lingering last words on doorsteps, and girls and bonbons in
the houses. Hastening along with the graceful ease of long practice,
hurrying to lose themselves behind the grim grey walls of barracks.
And Mr. Wayne watched and laughed; but then his eyes grew grave. Will
they make such haste at every call of duty, these gay youngsters? on
hand and "ready" at each noble muster? Alas, no! Even now some are
getting an "absence," and some a "late," and of others the guns are
not cleaned and the bell buttons will be tarnished. Ready! it is a
short word; but it means a man's whole ceaseless purpose, self-denial,
and care. How little those speeding figures on the green guessed that
anybody on the old hillside was praying for them; but I believe the
very skill and swiftness with which they darted along, gave stringency
to the prayer; such power for good, such forces for evil; such ease
in doing the right thing, such recklessness, sometimes, whether it was
done or not. Through his glass, Mr. Wayne could study it all out.
See that one now; a tall fellow, going over the ground at a rate to
take common people's breath away. It is not altogether his fault that
he has to run for it; his best girl is on hand to-day, and this was a
critical walk round Flirtation. Drum-calls were scarcely heard, and
minutes flew unheeded. No carelessness of orders kept him back, and no
contempt for them make him linger now. He does not mean to have even
a late; and so dashes on and wins. There is some jeering and clapping
as the tall figure comes up; "Two-forty" being his affectionate
soubriquet; but all the same he is there, in ranks, with about ten
seconds or less to spare.
Another--Oh, yes, he set out to run; anathematising the drum, the
parade, and the regulations, and so soon stops; runs again--and stops,
with a sort of what's-the-use air. "How much time?" he asks another,
who is walking calmly on.
"None at all."
Whereupon he quickens his steps; but not so the second. The drum-beats
come thicker and faster--that makes no odds. It is only a "skin" more
or less, he says to himself; and he's sure to get it some other way,
if not this; and he has lost his Christmas leave already. So, while
the rest fall in, and answer to roll-call, he comes leisurely up to
barracks, some minutes after the last man has shouted "Here!"
That is Cadet Clinker all through; if he is going to fess, he'll "fess
cold." No one knows better than he how many demerits a man may get and
still keep his place in the corps; or what delicate shades of meaning
there are about "taking advantage of permits." So he runs it here and
runs it there; goes off limits in all sorts of ways, places, and times,
and gets help from all the friendly smugglers that infest the Post.
He is one who entraps others, serving out his stores in many-coloured
glasses or dainty cups, teaching the younger men strange oaths and
unwholesome ways; making many a weak boy ashamed of his mother's
counsels and his father's rules.
"_Il y a des héros en mal, comme en bien._"
You see he is such a pleasant fellow,--handsome, rich, plausible; a
great favourite with the ladies; and with a head about equally divided
between folly and mathematics. Excellent gifts, all thrown away; and
worst of all, thrown where they are stumbling blocks for other men. But
he is a tremendous favourite all the same, with much more courage to do
wrong than he has to do right.
It is a thing to see Mr. Clinker come forth and walk about the Post, a
day or two after one of his prize-fight exploits. His mouth is swelled,
his eyes bruised, his nose knocked out of all its fine proportions. But
he steps jauntily along, and the pretty girl at his side gazes up into
the disfigured face as if Clinker were one of the first defenders of
the country, newly risen from the shadows of old Fort Clinton.
To-night Magnus watched him coming over the plain, and thought of Mr.
Wayne's words. No, he had never prayed for Clinker, much less tried to
win him to better ways. And Cadet Kindred remarked to himself, quite
privately, that he would rather "pull him out of the river" than do
_that_, every time.
Mr. Wayne stayed over Sunday, and Magnus spent with him every minute
that he could. The day was still and mild, so they could be out of
doors the whole time; and I hardly know which of them enjoyed it most.
"If surroundings made men, you cadets should be the noblest set on
earth!" Mr. Wayne broke forth, as late in the afternoon they walked
up from Battery Knox, and paused in the little clearing where "Dade
and his Command" will be thought of for many a long day. "Such wonders
of beauty on every side, in mountains and sky and river; and whichever
way you turn, such reminders of men who have 'fought a good fight' on
the field of honour. Look at the old flag, and think how it has been
shot at and insulted; defied and threatened; yet how splendidly it
floats off to-day! And the guns that lie sleeping beneath its shadow
were captured by men who knew no such words as 'hard' or 'easy.' And
the great iron links once stretched across the river tell of other
chains triumphantly broken, in the face of fearful odds. On all sides
you find written: 'Faithful unto death.' Life purpose, life and death
effort, life-blood, have done it all; the blood of men who 'counted not
their life dear unto themselves' when the country had need. And the one
traitor among them--why, you will not have his name even in sight! His
tablet is a blank."
Slowly pacing up the walk again, Mr. Wayne went on, half to himself:
"Then Paul answered: 'What mean ye to weep and to break mine heart? for
I am ready not to be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the
name of the Lord Jesus.' Magnus" (with sudden change of tone) "when we
parted two years ago at the Grand Central, I bade you make friends with
the flag; _now_ I tell you to open a recruiting office. I think you
Christian men in the corps are making a grand mistake."
"If you cannot reach the nation,
Gather in the men you know:
Teach your friend the way to glory--
Draw your comrade where you go."
Cadet Kindred stopped short and faced him.
"Yes," Mr. Wayne said, answering the look; "I know all about it. But
the Lord said: 'He that gathereth not with me, scattereth'. And if you
think it will be easier to take positive ground and begin positive work
for Christ among a lot of strange officers at your first post, _I_
think you are mistaken."