As Ralph grew up from infancy to childhood, he began to give decided promise of future distinction.  He was fond of sitting down in a corner and sucking his thumb, which his mother interpreted as the sign of that brooding disposition peculiar to poets and men of lofty genius.  At the age of five, he had become sole master in the house.  He slapped his sister Hilda in the face, or pulled her hair, when she hesitated to obey him, tyrannized over his nurse, and sternly refused to go to bed in spite of his mother’s entreaties.  On such occasions, the Colonel would hide his face behind his newspaper, and chuckle with delight; it was evident that nature had intended his son for a great military commander.  As soon as Ralph himself was old enough to have any thoughts about his future destiny, he made up his mind that he would like to be a pirate.  A few months later, having contracted an immoderate taste for candy, he contented himself with the comparatively humble position of a baker; but when he had read “Robinson Crusoe” he manifested a strong desire to go to sea in the hope of being wrecked on some desolate island.  The parents spent long evenings gravely discussing these indications of uncommon genius, and each interpreted them in his or her own way.

“He is not like any other child I ever knew,” said the mother.

“To be sure,” responded the father, earnestly.  “He is a most extraordinary child.  I was a very remarkable child too, even if I do say it myself; but, as far as I remember, I never aspired to being wrecked on an uninhabited island.”

The Colonel probably spoke the truth; but he forgot to take into account that he had never read “Robinson Crusoe.”

Of Ralph’s school-days there is but little to report, for, to tell the truth, he did not fancy going to school, as the discipline annoyed him.  The day after his having entered the gymnasium, which was to prepare him for the Military Academy, the principal saw him waiting at the gate after his class had been dismissed.  He approached him, and asked why he did not go home with the rest.

“I am waiting for the servant to carry my books,” was the boy’s answer.

“Give me your books,” said the teacher.

Ralph reluctantly obeyed.  That day the Colonel was not a little surprised to see his son marching up the street, and every now and then glancing behind him with a look of discomfort at the principal, who was following quietly in his train, carrying a parcel of school-books.  Colonel Grim and his wife, divining the teacher’s intention, agreed that it was a great outrage, but they did not mention the matter to Ralph.  Henceforth, however, the boy refused to be accompanied by his servant.  A week later he was impudent to the teacher of gymnastics, who whipped him in return.  The Colonel’s rage knew no bounds; he rode in great haste to the gymnasium, reviled the teacher for presuming to chastise his son, and committed the boy to the care of a private tutor.