Every Saturday, shortly after the return of the cadets from dinner, there is an inspection on the Plain, preceded by a review, at which the appearance, clothing, and equipment of the cadet are minutely examined by his Tactical officer. I know of no finer sight at West Point than this ceremony, especially in the summer and early fall when the Plain is green and the cadets wear the excellent combination of the gray coats and white trousers. As the companies maneuver on the Plain preparatory to taking their places on the line, the perfection of their marching, their impeccable appearance, the white cross-belts, the glittering breastplates, and bell buttons of coat, the foreign-looking dress hat with its rigid little pompon, the splendid bearing of the men, betray the beholder into believing that he is watching the evolutions of some legendary _corps d’élite_. The scene seems foreign and yet again very American. The most characteristic feature is the thoroughness with which every detail of dress, equipment, and marching has been worked out. When the Corps turns the bend near Sedgwick monument and comes swinging down past the reviewing officer, the most callous spectator could not fail to have his emotions stirred. His pride is flattered. He is watching a ceremony whose perfection of execution and beauty is symbolic of an institution that in a sense belongs to him, to the man next to him, and to all the spectators along the line. It is the product of America. No wonder he reverently removes his hat as the colors march by. No less beautiful although not so elaborate is the ceremony of parade. During the spring and fall, daily parades are given by the battalion that has attended infantry drill on that day. The drummers sound the first call in the sally-port. The Area of Barracks is practically deserted, but within the rooms cadets are feverishly adjusting their belts, wiping off their guns, struggling into their coats, or looking for mislaid breastplates. Out of the doors all at once begin to dart the plebes, first one then another, and still others. They hastily proceed to their places on the walk and mark the rear rank. The hands of the clock slowly creeping around to the hour for the assembly are watched intently by the Officer of the Day who stands in the sally-port ready to give the signal.