I had no sooner closed this morning's addenda than I had to prepare for the bugaboo of tent inspection. A good bugaboo, of course, as at home it always pays to have visitors, we redd up the house so carefully. Our job this morning was not only to have the tent perfectly neat, but also to have our kits laid out on our beds according to regulations. One blanket was spread over the cot, the others were folded at the head, and on them the sweater and pillow. At the foot were folded the poncho and shelter half; then all the equipment was spread out. Under the head of the bed was the blue barrack-bag and the suit-case; under the foot the shoes. Then we stood in line in front of the tent, and watched while the lieutenant, coming from tent to tent, left each squad in a state of despair behind him. To cheer us, someone at the sergeants' tent started a victrola, but a snap from the lieutenant ended that diversion. Result of it all: we were told to inspect a certain bed in Tent One, fold our blankets and ponchos _right_, and lay out our equipment according to a sacredly prescribed order. A meek procession filed in and out of the tent for the next half hour. It appears that blankets must be folded in a certain manner and laid in a certain way, so that the inspector can see at a glance whether the proper number of them is present--that none are in hock, I suppose. The manner of folding ingeniously insures that on making the bed at night the blankets must first be entirely shaken out; ditto in the morning. Some sanitary martinet evolved that scheme. We are told that a fourth blanket will be served out to us. Folded double lengthwise, four will allow seven thicknesses over us and one below, or any other proportion, according to the temperature. Sleeping as I do with the tent wall looped up, I shall be glad of the seven thicknesses. Cleanliness being next to godliness, many of the men washed clothes instead of going to church. A little daily washing in this fair weather keeps a wardrobe always ready for service. It's simple if you combine your laundry work with your swim. Bannister, our corporal, got us out on the drill field this afternoon for squad practice. But as even he is new to many of our evolutions, instead of monarchy we found democracy, so many of us had something to say. Part of the time Knudsen gently but firmly managed the squad; we taught each other how to stack arms; and finally from one argument we could only be rescued by appeal to the drill regulations. We knelt around the little blue book, while the opponents of two apparently conflicting ideas eagerly debated, until of a sudden each saw the other's point, and discovered that they meant the same thing.