We were kept so busy during this year that the time passed rapidly, notwithstanding many privileges that we had enjoyed were taken away from us. For instance, this year we were not allowed to go on Christmas leave, nor to receive Christmas boxes, nor to give an entertainment on New Year’s Eve. The fact is a new superintendent had taken charge of affairs and it did not take us long to find it out. Still we soon became accustomed to the new order of things and all went well. As I have said, cadets wore old shoes to reveille, and the accompanying verses express the kindly feelings they have for them: MY OLD REVEILLES. You may talk of your gaiters as much as you please, Their beauty, their elegance, comfort and ease; But of all the shoes that e’er shoemaker made, Not a word that is better of them can be said Than Cadets will say and they’ll not say it to please, But for pure, honest love of their old Reveilles. Long ages ago, they have seen their best day; Tho’ rusty and holey, I’ll not throw them away, But fondly will cherish tho’ the uppers wear out, And the soles are all ready to sail up the spout, For there’s no shoes in the world possess so much ease For my poor tired feet as my old Reveilles. The worldly may scoff and at sight of them sneer, But I’ll cling to them yet for old memories dear; They covered my feet when a Plebe in distress, And into my Yearling year helped me to press; As long as winds whistle and waves roll o’er the seas Will I look with kind glance on my old Reveilles. At last when the policeman shall come in some day, And gather the “rimnants” that I’ve thrown away, And bears the old rubbish to the heap down below, Along with the rest in the dust and the snow, You’ll see them there lying, producers of ease Sad, lonely, neglected, my old Reveilles. Others and newer may take their old place, And with plenteous blacking shine smiles in my face, My feet will look smaller and better perhaps, But in the sweet slumbers that come after Taps, Foremost and fairest of all visions that please, Will be happy remembrances of my old Reveilles. Let them go while a tear drop in memory flows Gently down from my eye-lid and rests on my nose, But little they’ll reck of my sorrow or pain, Nor of my longing to get them again. While over their resting-place cold winds scatter leaves Where they peacefully sleep—Farewell, Reveilles!