There was no time for ceremony. Off went our home clothes and we donned the regulation uniforms. Four sorrier-looking boys in blue could not have been found in Camp Meigs. And we were blue in more senses than one. My forage cap set down over my head and rested on my ears. The collar to my jacket came up to the cap, and I only had a “peek hole” in front. The sleeves of the jacket were too long by nearly a foot, and the legs of the pantaloons were ditto. The Government did not furnish suspenders, and as I had none I used some of the saddle straps to hold my clothes on. Taylor could not get his boots on, and Hom discovered that both of his boots were lefts. He got them on, however. When Waterman put on his overcoat it covered him from head to foot, the skirts dragging the floor. Before we had got on half our things the order came to “fall in outside,” and out we went. Taylor had his Government boots in his hands, as a corporal had informed him that if he turned out with citizen's boots on after having received his uniform he would be tied up by the thumbs. So he turned out in his stocking feet. We were “right dressed” and “fronted” by the first sergeant, who reported to the captain that the squad was formed. The captain advanced and began with Taylor, who was the tallest of the squad, and therefore stood on the right. “Where are your boots?” “Here,” replied the frightened recruit, holding them out from under the cape of his great coat. “Fall out and put them on.” “I can't.” “Why not?” “I wear nines and these are sevens.” “Corporal, take this man to the quartermaster's and have the boots changed.” Taylor trotted off, pleased to get away from the officer, who next turned his attention to Hom. “What's the matter with your right foot; are you left-handed in it?” “No, sir; they gave me both lefts.” “Sergeant, send this man to the quartermaster's and have the mistake rectified.” Waterman was next in line. “Who's inside this overcoat?” demanded the captain. “It's me, sir--private Waterman.” “Couldn't you get a smaller overcoat?” “They said it would fit me, and I had no time to try it on.” “Sergeant, have that man's coat changed at once. Fall out, private Waterman.” Then came my turn. The captain looked me over. My make-up was too much for his risibility. “Where did you come from?” he asked, after the first explosion. “Berlin.” “Where's that?” “York State.” “Well, you go with the sergeant to the quartermaster and see if you can't find a rig that will come nearer fitting you than this outfit.” I was glad to obey orders, and after the captain's compliments had been presented to the quartermaster, directions were given to supply me with a uniform that would fit. Although the order could not be literally complied with, I profited by the exchange, and the second outfit was made to do after it had been altered somewhat by a tailor, and the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the trousers had been shortened.