One of these candidates was a bright young West Pointer of mine, and with him were a couple of my West Point professors.
When I saw the Board, I did not know whether to cry or to laugh.
The head of it was the officer known to later centuries as Norroy King-at-Arms! The two other members were chiefs of bureaus in his department; and all three were priests, of course; all officials who had to know how to read and write were priests.
My candidate was called first, out of courtesy to me, and the head of the Board opened on him with official solemnity: "Name ?" "Mal-ease." "Son of ?" "Webster." "Webster--Webster.

H'm--I--my memory faileth to recall the name.

Condition ?" "Weaver." "Weaver!--God keep us!" The king was staggered, from his summit to his foundations; one clerk fainted, and the others came near it.

The chairman pulled himself together, and said indignantly: "It is sufficient.

Get you hence." But I appealed to the king.