There is, however, about certain fellow passengers, lean lank youths like himself, something responsive, something about their hats, something about the unnatural droop of the shoulders, the new suitcases, the same fearful look that draws him to their side. “Are you a candidate, too?” he asks hopefully. An answer is unnecessary. Instinct again has won, and the flood-gates of friendship are unreservedly opened to the newly made companion about to enter the Land of Egypt and the House of Bondage. We are timid creatures all of us, and even the strongest suffer a twinge of timidity, a queer feeling in the seat of compassion, when about to penetrate the mystery surrounding an unknown life. At such a moment we all want to be little children, to have someone take us under shelter. We would like to run away from ugly, grim Reality that relentlessly blocks our way and with whom we must battle before we can go forward. A sort of vague terror pervades the candidate as he climbs the hill from the station to the Adjutant’s office where he must report, but he grasps his suitcase and sets forth for the Headquarters Building where his directions tell him to report upon his arrival. If he is ahead of time he goes to the hotel where he finds a great many candidates, some of whom have been at the Point several days trying to absorb some impressions before reporting. Here friends are quickly made. On the day that they are all ordered to report, when they feel that they are about to bid farewell to their civilian freedom, they reluctantly set out for Headquarters. Unwilling though they may be to report, few ever in after life regret having entered the Academy.