The great metamorphosis or “recognition,” as it is called, occurs upon the day before graduation, immediately after the return of the Battalion from supper, and just prior to the graduation ball. On this night, at supper formation and in the Mess Hall, the upper-classmen are particularly severe. They “brace” and “crawl” the plebes more than ever before, filling the air with, “Get your shoulders back, Mr. Ducrot, more yet! more yet!” or, “Draw in that chin!” On this night, however, the whole affair seems humorous, for the plebes have completed their year and the upper-classmen are now about to extend to them a warm handclasp. In order not to let the plebe training fizzle out or have an inglorious end, the rigor of the “crawling” that for months has diminished little by little is all at once revived with great earnestness and enthusiasm. No one minds, however, but regards this last evening’s treatment more as a “grind,” or joke. After supper the battalions form in front of the Mess Hall and march back to the barracks in the soft June twilight. To the observer at a distance, a roar seems to arise from the ranks as the corporals, sergeants, and lieutenants hurl corrections at the plebes. The noise continues until the Corps wheels into line to listen to the orders of the first captain standing under the trees in front of the barracks consulting with the Officer of the Day. The various instructions and orders having been announced he commands: “Dismiss your companies!” At once the upper-classmen in the front ranks turn and cordially grasp the hands of the plebes and slap them on the back, the first time in a year since their arrival at West Point. All of the dreariness of a year’s subjection is dissipated by the affectionate and fraternal welcome in the Corps proper by the upper-classmen, whose strong grips are to the plebe a sufficient reward for the hardships of the year just completed. Friendships whose seeds were sown, but prevented from growing by the great gulf between upper-classmen and plebes, now find their fullest opportunity for development. The Rubicon is passed, and our plebe lays aside his sackcloth-and-ashes manner for the more man-of-the-world one of a Yearling. And richly does he deserve this recompense for his manliness and grit! Following Kipling’s advice in _If_, he has for a long year (sometimes by _force majeure_) filled “the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,” so that his “recognition” by his fellow cadets means that he is stamped approved, and that he is entitled to associate with real men. Mr. Ducrot is now entitled to enjoy all the privileges allowed the cadets by regulation and by the custom of the Corps. As a plebe, tradition ordains that he shall not attend the hops, or be allowed the social recreations of the upper-classman, but now the bars to the pasture of pleasures are removed and he scampers in like a young colt to enjoy his new freedom.