“New cadets, turn out promptly!” command the cadet instructors in the lower hall of each division. Down the iron steps hurriedly come running the novitiates, and line up in the Area. At the Cadet Store, each man is issued his mattress, pillows, and bedding. A long procession of young Atlases, sweating like horses, stagger through the sally-port, bearing aloft everything necessary for sleeping, except the bed. A few zealous ones add to the burden a bucket, perhaps a dipper rattling inside, and a broom that sways recklessly on the top of the mattress. Concealed somewhere in the mass is a bottle of indelible ink that is sure to drop before the room is reached. Standing in the Area are a few of the Wrathful tribe ever on the alert to see that no loitering occurs. “Take up a double time, Mr. Ducrot, step out!” Poor Mr. Ducrot, this time about five feet four inches tall, whose view has been obscured by the side of a mattress, attempts to be more of a hustler, stubs his toe, and down come pillows, mattress, bucket, and all. “Well, Mr. Ducrot, you’re a pretty mess, you’re about the grossest plebe I ever saw!” consoles one sarcastic Arch-Fiend. “What do you think you’re trying to celebrate out here, Mr. Dumbguard,” cuts in another, “do you think you’re going to take a nap?” The senior cadet officer comes forward: “What’s the trouble?” he inquires. Mr. Ducrot (after remembering to raise his hand in imitation of a salute) speaks up from the midst of his debâcle: “I was ...” “Sir! Sir!” commands the officer. “Sir,” recommences Mr. Ducrot, “I was coming through the sally-port when----” Further details of this domestic tragedy are cut short by the roll of a drum. “Pick up that stuff and get ready for dinner.” “Step out! Step out!” orders the cadet officer. Dinner! Dinner! Beloved dinner! the thought fills Mr. Ducrot with ecstasy. Here it is twelve-thirty and he has been at it since 5:30. It seems three years. At dinner formation, “Mr. Ducrot, Mr. Dumbguard and Co.” learn how to “brace,” a term used to denote the position of the shoulders well down and back, with the head erect and chin in, hands close to the side. The companies are marched, after a fashion, to the Mess Hall. The cadet instructors accompany the new cadets continually commanding: “Mr. Duflickit, drag in that chin!” “Hold your head up, No. 2, 1st squad!” Once in the Mess Hall, the new cadet is allowed to eat all he wishes without interference. At the meal, however, he must comply with the instructions for the position of a cadet at table in the Mess Hall.