Jones is nearly dressed, and is at present engaged in his devotions. The corporal stares at him, but proceeds on his way. I have to go on the middle deck carrying my boots, and put them on there. Just time to lace them up before the bugle sounds 'Fall in,' and the officer of the day begins his inspection. This over, we march to the messroom to do an hour's preparation. The Euclid is awfully hard; I am afraid I shan't know it. Bugle sounds 'Dismiss studies.' I will not go on deck yet. The corporal's memory may fail him, or he may be in a soft mood and let me off. We all sit down, awaiting grace. My spirits rise. But behold! the corporal's legs appear descending the hatchway, and worse still, his burly form follows them! 'Now then, sir' (addressing me), 'go up and fall in on the 'alf deck.' There is no help for it, so I take up my cap and reluctantly obey. Lieutenant A---- is the officer of the day, so he will let me off easy, perhaps. The corporal salutes and addresses him: 'Mr. Martin, sir, for not being dressed by second warning.' The lieutenant asks if I have any excuse to offer: I have none, and he orders me a day's 'four.' This is a fairly easy punishment, and I return to breakfast somewhat consoled. I expect all the rolls have been bagged; but I find that Grey, who sits next me, has secured me three. I thank him and fall to. Here come the sausages round, followed by ham, and a choice of tea or cocoa. Sausages are all very well in their way, but they make you horribly thirsty. I manage, however, to get two cups of cocoa, and consider I have made a fairly good breakfast. I collect my books and proceed to my study in the _Hindostan_, to look over my work for the day. Hullo! there are some 'news' looking out of the ports; I must give them a shower bath. I make a paper cone, and filling it with water, empty it over them. It gets them fairly on the neck: heads disappear. I try to master the Euclid and trig. Some other fellows have dropped in by now; they are fairly quiet. 8.50.--Bugle again, and the corporal's mellow tones: 'Clear ship! Clear ship! Cadets on the poop!' One by one we obey the summons, and proceed to the poop of the _Britannia_. Soon the bugle sounds 'Fall in'; we are inspected, and prayers are read by the chaplain, after which we march off to the studies, and the real work of the day begins. I get questions I know, and manage to stumble through my work fairly well.