Nor was he less ready in the art of swinging a hammock.  His father had not neglected that part of his education, and Hunt and others who had hoped for some fun in watching his maiden effort had to own themselves defeated and disappointed.  Max was as expert at that as the oldest member of the class.

So the “plebes” soon dropped their air of conscious superiority and presently began to treat him as an equal; a change which he reported to his father with evident satisfaction.  He wrote frequently and with much openness to that father, telling of his duties and pleasures and asking advice in any perplexity as freely as he could have asked it of any one near his own age, and with full confidence in the wisdom and the affection for him which would dictate the reply.

Nor was he disappointed; almost every day a letter came from the captain, breathing strong fatherly affection, giving commendation, encouragement, and the best of advice; also telling everything about the doings and happenings in the family that was not related by Mamma Vi or one of Max’s sisters, who not unfrequently added a note to papa’s larger letter.

All those letters, like the first, were highly prized by the recipient and read and reread in leisure moments till he could have repeated their contents almost word for word; and every perusal increased the lad’s desire and determination to be and do all those dear ones—­especially his father—­could wish; also to please and honor him to whose service he had consecrated his life and all his powers.

Max was not perfect, but he was honest and true, and sincerely desirous to do right.

He was much interested in the accounts received of the visits of his father and the others to the scenes of revolutionary events in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and, though far from regretting his choice of a profession, could not help wishing he could have made one of the party.

One day, after he had spent some weeks in the Academy, he was disappointed in his expectation of receiving a letter; none came the next day; but then it occurred to him that the Dolphin was probably on her homeward way and he would soon get a letter from Woodburn, telling of the arrival there of all belonging to the dear home circle.

And he was right; a package of letters came presently giving an account of the events of the last days spent in Philadelphia, the return voyage, and the joy of the arrival at their own beautiful and happy home.

Ah, as Max read, how he longed to be with them!  Yet the concluding sentences of his father’s letter restored him to contentment with things as they were.

The captain had just received and read the report of his boy’s conduct and academic standing for his first month and was much pleased with it.  He made that very clear to the lad, calling him his dear son, his joy and pride, and telling him that until he was a father himself he could never know the joy and happiness such a report of a son’s behavior and improvement of his opportunities could give.