rearrange them to suit him, in which I also finally
succeeded.

At eleven o'clock the mail came. I received a letter,
and to my astonishment its postmark was "West Point,
N. Y., May 21st." Of course I was at a loss to know
who the writer was. I turned it over and over, looked
at it, studied the postmark, finally opened it and
read it.*

*This letter by some means has been misplaced, and
all efforts to find it, or to discover what its
exact contents were, have failed. However, it was
from James Webster Smith, the first and then only
cadet of color at West Point. It reassured me very
much, telling me not to fear either blows or insults,
and advising me to avoid any forward conduct if I
wished also to avoid certain consequences, "which,"
said the writer, "I have learned from sad experience,"
would be otherwise inevitable. It was a sad letter.
I don't think any thing has so affected me or so
influenced my conduct at West Point as its melancholy
tone. That "sad experience" gave me a world of warning.
I looked upon it as implying the confession of some
great error made by him at some previous time, and of
its sadder consequences.

This was another surprise--a welcome surprise,
however. I read it over several times. It showed
me plainly that Smith had not been dismissed, as