I have owned many handsome carriages, luxurious in their appointments,
drawn by fine horses, but as I look back to that day of days, that
shabby public hack, with its rough-looking driver, holding the reins
over a pair of ill-fed animals, stands in my memory as almost ideal.

Of course I did not leave my promised wife at the boat. There
was no reason I should not take that delightful sail up the river
with her, and there was every reason why I should. I sought out a
secluded spot on deck and there, comparatively free from observation,
we let our thoughts revel in our new-found happiness.

It was possible, unseen, to occasionally clasp each other's hand,
and in this way a sort of lover's wireless telegraph kept us in
communication that emphasized to me the fact that my happiness was
real and not a dream.

Our conversation was not very animated; we were too happy to talk,
and the beautiful scenery of the Hudson was lost to us on that
occasion.

To look into each other's eyes and read there all that was in our
hearts was the supreme pleasure and happiness of the moment.

When the boat arrived at West Point, Lieutenant Harper, then
Professor of Spanish at the Academy, afterwards major, and since
promoted to colonel for gallantry in the Philippines, met Miss
Wilson at the landing.

I had planned to at once take the ferry across the river--there