Upon our return we were met at the Battery in New York by the famous Seventh (New York) Regiment and escorted to its armory for refreshments. The march up Broadway was amid a continuous line of spectators, who applauded us all the way. We saw the regiment as it passed us to take post as our escort, and we were charmed with their faultless alignments and movements, and were friends at once. The reception was highly appreciated as a distinguishing feature of our trip. We reached West Point at 5 p. m. on the 6th of March, and as we marched to the barracks the band played “When Johnnie Comes Marching Home Again.” The regular routine was at once resumed. In speaking of our drill in Washington one paper said: “The drill of the West Point Cadets on Pennsylvania avenue was certainly splendid. The whole battalion went through their various and intricate maneuvers with such precision that they even surprised some of the military officers who, in company with the Secretary of War, reviewed them. The sight was grand, almost beyond description. Thousands of persons viewed their drills from the streets and indoors, and all were of the opinion expressed above. If there are any better drilled organizations let them come along.” After the January examinations were over first classmen and furloughmen began to count the days until the first of June, and to hold meetings of rejoicing on the hundredth, fiftieth and twenty-fifth nights. On the hundredth night there was a special program, and the following was sung on that night: THE HUNDREDTH NIGHT. Come, fellows, listen to my song, A pleasant tale and not too long, Of scenes familiar to each one. Some have passed and some will come. The hundredth night has come at last, And first-class course will soon be past, Of Cadet gray they’ll take their leave And give their white pants to their plebe. It really makes the “immortals” laugh, To think that they’ll get in the staff. When asked where they are going to go, In four years Engineers, you know. When one more week has had its run, The Corps will start for Washington. Clean candle-boxes will be worn. On us, militia will look with scorn. To drink will be the greatest crime, The corps will drill by band clock-time. Old Emory will march in grand state And Murray behind will get a late. Now, second classmen, don’t be glum, First-class camp quite soon will come. And then you bet you’ll cut a swell, And spooney “femmes” at the hotel. Oh! furlough is a very good thing, You wear Cit clothes and have your fling. The Cit you stuff with famous lies, And if he doubts, you punch his eyes. Plebeistic youth, lift up your head, Your yearling path you soon will tread, Corporal chevrons will grace your arm, Which fills the beasts with much alarm.