m UNIVEESIT7 THE WEST POINT SCRAP BOOR A COLLECTION OF Stories, Songs, and Legends ITED STATES MILITARY ACADEMY, WITH ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS. LIEUT. OLIVER E. WOOD, U. S. ARMY. - ^^ NEW YORK : VAN NOSTRAND, PUBLISHEB, 23 MCRRAY AND 27 WARRKX STREET. 1871. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1871, by D. VAN NOSTRAXD, fy~L/0 6> D in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. TO THE GEADUATES OF THE U. S. MILITARY ACADEMY, THIS VOLUME is RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, THE AUTHOR. PREFACE. g ! II Ih IN presenting this volume to the public, a few explan- tory words will not be out of place. The collection was made by the Author, at first, with- ut any intention of having it published, but at the rnest solicitation of many friends, most of them Grada- tes, it now appears in print, and it is hoped will bring p many pleasant reminiscences to those who have left eir Alma Mater. As many of the authors of contributed pieces have desired that their names should be withheld from the public, it has been considered advisable to refrain from giving any names. The Author desires to return his most sincere thanks o Mr. Julian Scott, of Xew York, who has rendered invaluable assistance in preparing some of the wood-cuts for the press. He also wishes to return his heartfelt thanks for the any contributions he has received, and for the hearty support and the warm interest that has been manifested 6 PREFACE. by all those with whom he has been thrown in contact during the time he has been engaged in the work. 0. E. W. FOBT SULLIVAN, MAINE, September 1st, 1871. CONTENTS. PAGE DESCRIPTION OF WEST POINT 13 REMINISCENCES OF OLDEN TIMES 29 THE ATTEMPT TO BOMBARD THE SUPERINTENDENT'S HOUSE 29 THE ATTEMPT TO BLOW UP THE OLD NORTH BARRACKS 30 ESPIONAGE OVER THE CADETS 31 MKSS HALL REMINISCENCES 34 OUR OLD COMMANDANT 35 THE BURIAL OF A CADET 39 DISAPPOINTMENT AND REFORM (A PLAT) 41 MAJOR BOB G 45 FURLOUGH SONG OF 1829 46 THE FOUR CLOCKS 48 FANNY ELLSLER'S PIROUETTE BY MOONLIGHT 49 BENNY HAVENS,' OH! 59 A FRAGMENT 64 WEST POINT EXPERIENCE 65 ARMY HYMN 67 A SONNET TO "ANALYTICAL" 67 REPLY TO WEST POINT EXPERIENCE 68 SLIGHT INVECTIVE AGAINST MECHANICS 71 \ I'ERSIGN 72 RADIATING CLASS SONG OF 1848 76 EST POINT LIFE 77 E CADET'S BABY 95 SHOULDER STRAPS 107 REM; BY AN OLD GRADUATE ios IP FROM THE ' SECTION-ROOM" 116 RETURN OF THE FURLOUGH CLASS OF 1850 116 Y FIRST NIGHT ON POST 117 E RETURNED FURLOUGH-MAN 123 PARODY ON HOH EM. I NDEN 124 OLD CADET'S ADVICE 1-J3 URLOUGH SuNG oF 1859 12S CITIZEN'S IDEA OF DRESS PARADE 129 THE ARMY BLUE t ou> VERSION) 132 ILLfc . . 133 8 CONTENTS. PAGE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE RIDING-HALL 134 ODE TO C. M. W 137 EXTRACT 138 " MERCOOK" 138 DREAMS OF THE DRAWING ACADEMY 139 DO NOT FILL A SOLDIER'S GRAVE 140 MOLECULES 142 DARKER HERE ! 142 "PHIL." 143 A SLIGHT TRANSPOSITION 143 AN EVENING'S REVERIE 144 ON THE SUBJECT OF "BREAKS" 148 THE YOUNG DRAGOON 150 POETRY OF CADET LIFE 151 DESCRIPTION OF A CADET HOP 153 THE GHOST OF "POLLY H." 156 AN IMITATION 159 BULLY FOR ALL 161 A CADET HASH 162 "GIRT SIMMER KOOK" 167 SCENE IN THE COMMANDANT'S'OFFICE 168 DOMESTIC CALCULUS 169 A SECOND MUNCHAUSEN 169 THE VERY SORROWFUL NARRATIVE OF FRANK DAVENPORT 171 THE GROCERY-MAN 181 POETICAL EFFUSION BY A PLEBE 182 THE ARMY BLUE (SONG OF 1865} 183 EPITAPH ON "OLD L " 184 MY EQUESTRIAN EXPERIENCE 184 A DIABOLICAL EXTRACT 191 CARMEN AD TERRY 192 MY PIPE AND 1 193 THE BILLY-GOAT 194 "DADEGAN'S HIVE" 197 MEDITATIONS BY ONE TURTLE 200 CAMP OF '66 200 TE ROGAMUS 201 MOTHER GOOSE, No. 2 204 A LAMENTABLE BALLAD 205 THE " RAVING " 207 THE FAMOUS BILLIARD-TABLE 209 WHERE HUDSON'S WAVE 214 "KEEN" FROM THE MESS 215 EXPERIMENTS 16 CONUNDRUM 216 " AITCH EM BEE" 117 PRIVATE THEATRICALS :217 CONTENTS. PAGE THE ALCHEMIST ......................................................................... :4 THE CADET'S SUNDAY .................................................................. 225 THE RI<; MENA<;ERIE ................................................................... 218 A GENUINE CADET " HASH " ........................................................... 231 DESCRIPTION OF CAM!' LOOKOUT ....................................................... 235 OUR ALMA MATER ...................................................................... 1^7 BE<;<;IN<; I-ARDON OF THE MOUNTED SERVICE, ETC ................................... 238 FOURTEENTH <>F APRIL, 1867 ........................................................... 239 ItoN VoYA4 THE BEAUTIES oE THE DEMERIT SYSTEM. THE DAILY ROUTINE POME RECOLLECTIONS OF BEXXY'S WEST POINT ............................................................................ 281 MY FI RS T HOP ........................................................................... 284 RECOLLECTIONS .......................................................................... 288 THE EXCISE NO//LE .................................................................... 301 RFVI i:\VINC THE CAMl'AK-N ............................................................ 30*3 OLLA PODRIDA ........................................ ................................. 309 LAST NK;HT IN BARRACKS ............................................................. 3-_>o VOCABULAR V ... .......................................................... 337 Fron, ^Cadet Life at West Point." the late General Strong By LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 2. CROW NEST. LOOKING; SOUTH PACK 13 3. CADET MONUMENT 15 4 FORT PUTNAM 17 5. RUIXS OF FORT PUTNAM 18 6. WCM )I) 'S M< >N UMENT 19 7. VIEWS FR)M SIEGE BATTERY 20 8. GREAT CHAIN 21 9. C RO W N E S T 23 10. K< >SCI 1 S( V.Ki >\S MONUMENT 24 11. DADE-S MONUMENT , 25 12. STEPS LEADING To KosciUSC/Ko'S GARDEN 26 13. THE THOMAS POWELL OFF STORM KING 27 14 THE NORTH BARRACKS 30 15. THE MESS HALL 34 1C THIRTEEN INCH MORTAR 40 IT. THE SOUTH BARRACKS 41 18. BENNY HAVENS 59 19. WEST POINT HOTKI , 65 20. ROAD TO CO//ENS- DOCK 69 21. THE MILITARY ACADEMY HAND 75 22. THE RECEPTION OF A I'LEP.E 78 23. THE PLEBF/S TRIP FROM THE COMMISSARY 79 24. B A Yo X E T E X E RC I S E 81 25 HOBGOBLINS oX POST 82 26. SliUAD DKILI 83 J7. LEAVING CAMP 84 It STl'DYING IN BARRACKS 84 29. PLEBF.S FENCING 85 M. RECITATION IX "MATH." 85 31. SCENE IN THE Hop.RooM 87 NE IN THE RIDINGHALL. 88 33. GOING ox FURLOUGH 90 \E IN THE MKSSHALI 91 3/i. PoLICKING CAMP 92 36. THE LAST REVIEW... 93 12 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE 37. GOING DOWN THE HUDSON 94 38. THE ENCAMPMENT 118 39. THE OLD ACADEMY 122 40. THE PARADE 130 41. VIEW FROM BATTERY ROCK 135 42. DREAM OF FURLOUGH 144 43. FOUR SCENES IN A CADET WALTZ 154 44. A CADET HASH 163 45. SCENE IN THE COMMANDANT'S OFFICE 168 46. HE IS CHALLENGED BY THE SUPT.'S "BUM." 173 47. THEY LAY YE PROSTRATE COURIER KINDLY ON A SHUTTER 174 48. AT THE GUARD-HOUSE DOOR 175 49. FRANK DAVENPORT AT HOME 175 50. IN STALKED THE MESSENGER OF WOE 176 51. THE BELL-BUTTON 179 52. THE LAST OF POOR FRANK 180 53. A CADET ON HORSEBACK 185 54. A DIABOLICAL SCENE 191 55. THE BILLY-GOAT 195 56. DADEGAN'S "HIVE" 198 57. HURDLE SCENE 200 58. VIEW FROM GARRISON'S 210 59. FORT PUTNAM 215 60. THE CHAPEL 225 61. COZZENS' 236 62. THE ACADEMIC BUILDING 238 63. OLD BENTZ THE BUGLER 253 64. BUTTERMILK FALLS 259 65. CHURCH OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS 281 66. MARTELAER'S ROCK 285 67. TROPHY GUNS 30f5 68. CADET'S MESS-HALL 310 69. THE LIBRARY 322 0? THE 'UKIVBRSIT1 WEST POINT. As we passed the foot of Cro 7 Xest we caught pleasant glimpses of West Point, and in a few moments the whole outline of the promontory, and the grand ranges of hills CROW NEST, LOOKING SOUTH. around and beyond it, were in full view, We landed in a sheltered cove, a little above Camp-town, the station of United States troops, and climbed a very steep hill to the 14 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Cemetery upon its broad and level summit, more than a hundred feet above the river. It is a shaded, quiet, beautiful retreat, consecrated to the repose of the dead, and during the summer season has crowds of thoughtful visitors at all hours. There, side by side, the dark green cedars cluster, Like sentries watching by that camp of death; There, like an army's tents, with snow-white lustre, The grave-stones gleam beneath. ******** Few are the graves, for here no populous city Feeds with its myriad lives the hungry Fate, While homely funerals, led by grief and pity, Crowd through the open gate. Here sleep brave men, who, in the deadly quarrel, Fought for their country, and their life-blood poured; Above whose dust she carves the deathless laurel, Wreathing the victor's sword. .And here the young cadet, in manly beauty, Borne from the tents which skirt those rocky banks, Called from life's daily drills, and peerless duty, To those unbroken ranks. The most conspicuous object in the Cemetery is the Cadets' Monument, situated in the eastern angle. It is a short column of castle form, composed of light-brown hewn stone, surmounted by military emblems, and a foliated memorial urn, wrought from the same material. It was erected in the autumn of 1818 to the memory of Vincent M. Lowe, of Xew York, by his brother cadets. He was accidentally killed by the discharge of a cannon on the 1st of January, 1817. '-BOOK. ie names of several other officers and cadets are in- scribed upon the monument, it having been adapted by the members of the institution as " Sacred to the memory of the deceased, whose names are here recorded.'' CADET MONUMENT. From the brow of the hill, near the Cadets' Monument, is a comprehensive view of the picturesque village of Cold Spring, on the east side of the river, occupying a spacious alluvial slope, bounded by rugged heights on the north, and connected, behind a range of quite lofty mountains, with the fertile valleys of Duchess and Putnam Counties. Let us turn our eyes eastward, and from another point on the margin of the Cemetery, where a lovely shaded walk invites the strollers on warm afternoons, survey Camp- 1C WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. town at our feet, with West Point on the adjacent hills. In this view we see the old landing place, the road up to the plateau, the Laboratory buildings, the siege battery, the hotel, and the remains of old Fort Clinton, upon the highest ground of the plain ; the blue dome of the Library, the turrets of the great mess-hall on the extreme right j the cove, crossed by the Hudson River Railway, and the range of hills on the eastern side of the river. Following this walk to the entrance-gate, we traverse a delightful winding road along the river bank, picturesque at every turn, to the parting of the ways. One of these leads to the Point, the other up to Mount Independence, on whose summit repose the gray old ruins of Fort Put- nam. We had ascended that winding mountain road many times before, and listened to the echoes of the sweet bugle, or the deeper voices of the morning and evening gun at the Point ; now we were invited by a shady path, and a desire of novelty, from the road between Forts Webb and Putnam, into the deep, rocky gorge between Mount Independence and the more lofty Redoubt Hill, to the rear of the old fortress, where it wears the appearance of a ruined castle upon a mountain crag. The afternoon sun was falling full upon the mouldering ruin and the chaotic mass of rocks beneath it, while the clear blue sky, and white clouds, presented the whole group, with accompanying evergreens, in the boldest relief. Making our way back by another but more difficult path, along the foot of the steep acclivity, we soon stood upon the broken walls of Fort Putnam, five hundred feet above the river, with a scene before us of unsurpassed WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. IT beauty and interest, viewed in the soft light of the evening sun. At our feet lay the promontory of West Point, with its Military Academy, the quarters of the officers and the cadets, and other buildings of the institution. To the L'ft Constitution Island, from a point of which, where a ted wall now stands, to the opposite shore of the river, FORT PUTNAM. massive iron chain was laid across floating timbers, by he Americana, during the old war for independ. yond the island, arose the smoke of the furnaces, the and the roofs of Cold Springs. Towards the left i up the -lofty Mount Taurus, vulgarly called "Bull 11," ut whose base, in the shadow of a towering wall of ock, and in the midst of grand old trees, nestles " I'nder Cliff, ' the home of Morris, the warbler, whose songs have delighted thousands i;i both hemispheres. On the extreme left arose old Cro' Xest. and over its right shoulder lay the 18 WEST POINT SCKAP-BCOK. rugged range of Break Neck, dipping to the river suffi- ciently to reveal the beautiful country beyond, on the bor- ders of Newburgh bay. This is one of the most attractive points of view on the Hudson. RUINS OF FORT PUTNAM. Fort Putnam was erected by the Americans in 1778, for the purpose of defending Fort Clinton on the plain below, and to more thoroughly secure the river against the pas- sage of hostile fleets. It was built under the direction of Colonel Rufus Putnam, and chiefly by the men of his Massachusetts regiment. It commanded the river above and below the Point, and was almost impregnable, owing to its position. In front, the mountain is quite steep for many yards, and then slopes gently to the plain; while on its western side a perpendicular wall of rock, fifty feet in height, would have been presented to the enemy. Re- doubts were also built upon other eminences in the vicin- ity. These, being chiefly earthworks, have been almost \VEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 19 )bliterated by the action of storms, and Fort Putnam was )eedily disappearing under the hands of industrious neighbors, who were carrying off the stone for building purposes, when the work of demolition was arrested by the Government. Its remains, consisting of only broken walls, and two or three arched casemates, all overgrown with vines and shrubbery, are now carefully preserved. WOOD'S MONUMENT. Kveu the cool spring that bubbles from the rocks in its litre is kept clear of choking leaves, and we may reason- ably hope that the ruins of Fort Putnam will remain an object of interest to the passing traveller for more than a jntury to come. The winding road from the fort to the )lain is quite strep much of the way, but is so well ought that carriages may safely traverse it, and the tourist is led by it to one of the loveliest of river and lountain views in the world. The road from the north 20 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. gate to the plain passes by the residences of the Professors ; passing along this shaded walk, on the margin of a high bank, a white marble obelisk is seen upon a grassy knoll on the left, shooting up from a cluster of dark evergreen trees. It was erected by Major- General Jacob Brown, of the United States Army, in memory of his youthful and well-beloved companion in arms, Lieutenant-Colonel E. D. Wood, of the Corps of Engineers, who fell while leading a charge at the sortie of Fort Erie, in Upper Canada, on the 17th of September, 1824. He had been a pupil of the Military Academy at West Point. " He was/' says one of the inscriptions, " exemplary as a Christian, and distin- guished as a soldier.*' Passing a little further on, a grav- elled walk diverges river- ward, and leads down to the siege battery of six guns, erected by the cadets while in VIEWS FROM SIEGE BATTERY. the performance of their practical exercises in engineering. The carmonwere housed, and no gunners were near, yet WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 21 the works appeared formidable. They were composed of gabions covered with turf, soft and even as fine velvet. The battery commands one of the most pleasing views from the Point, comprising Constitution Island, Mount Taurus, and Break Xeck on the right ; Cro 7 Nest and the Storm King on the left ; and ten miles up the river, with Polop- pel ? s Island, and the shores above Xewburgh, in the centre. A similar view is obtained from the piazza of Roe's Hotel, on the brow of the hill just above. A little westward of tue siege battery, are the buildings of the Laboratory of the institution, in which are deposited some interesting relics of the old war for independence. One of the most GREAT CHAIX. ittractive groups among these relics is composed of sev- al links of the great iron chain, already mentioned, that anned the river, enclosing a large brass mortar taken m the British at Stony Point by AVayne, and two WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. smaller ones that were among the spoils of victory at Saratoga. There are a dozen links of the chain, and two huge clevises. The links are made of iron bars, two and a-half inches square. Their average length is a little over two feet, and their weight about fourteen pounds each. The chain was stretched across the river at the narrowest place, just above Gee's Point (the extreme rocky end of West Point), and Constitution Island. It was laid across a boom of heavy logs that floated near together. They were sixteen feet long, and pointed at each end, so as to offer little resistance to the tidal cur- rents. The chain was fastened to these logs by staples, and at each shore by huge blocks of wood and stone. This chain and boom afforded an efficient barrier to the passage of vessels ; bat their strength was never tested, as the keel of an enemy's ship never ploughed the Hudson after the fleet of Yaughan passed up and down in the autumn of 1777, and performed its destructive mission. The views from Roe's Hotel, on the extreme northern verge of the summit of the plain of West Point, are very pleasing in almost every direction. The one northward, similar to that from the siege battery, is the finest ; west- ward, the eye takes in the Laboratory, Colonel Wood's monument, a part of the shaded walk along the northern margin of the plain, and Mount Independence, crowned with the ruins of Fort Putnam. Southward, the view comprehends the entire parade, and glimpses of the Academy through the trees, the Chapel, Library, Mess- hall, and Barracks, with some of the officers' and Professors' WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 23 residences on the extreme right. The earthworks of Fort Clinton have recently been restored in the original form and general proportions, exactly upon their ancient site, and present, with the beautiful trees growing within their II green banks, a very pleasant object from any point of view. The old fort was constructed in the sp:ing of 1778, under the direction of the brave Polish soldier Thaddeus Kosciusczko, who was then a Colonel in the Continental nny and Chief of the Engineer Corps. The fort, when completed, was six hundred yards around within the walls. The embankments were twenty-one feet at the base and fourteen feet in height. Hit rrarks and huts sufficient to accommodate six hun- ivd persons were erected within the fort. It stood upon clill'on the margin of the plain, one hundred and eighty eet above the river. Passing along the verge of the clilV, ulhwurd from Kosciusczko's monument, erected by the 24 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Corps of Cadets in 1828, at a cost of five thousand dollars, the visitor soon reaches another memorial stone. It is of white marble, the chief portion being a fluted column, entwined by a laurel wreath, held in the beak of an eagle perched upon its top. KOSCIUSCZKO'S MONUMENT. The pedestal is of temple form, square, with a row of encircling stars upon its entablature, and a cannon like supporting column at each corner. It was erected to commemorate a battle fought between a detachment of United States troops, under Major Francis L. Dade, and a party of Seminole Indians, in the everglades of Florida, on the 28th of December, 1835. iT POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 25 The detachment consisted of one hundred and eight men, all of whom, save three, were massacred by the sav- ages on that occasion. The troops nobly defended them- selves, and made no attempt to retreat. Their remains repose near St. Augustine, in Florida. This monument was erected by the three regiments, and the Medical Staff, from which the detachment was selected. DADE'S MONUMENT. few feet from "Dade's Command" monument, a narrow lli through a rocky passage, overhung with boughs and shrubbery, leads down to a pleasant terrace in the steep Lank of the river, which is called " Kosciusczko's Garden." At the back of the terrace the rock rises perpendicularly to the plain. This is said to have been Kosciusczko's orite place of resort for reading and meditation while was at \\Yst Point. He found a living spring bubbling m the rocks in the middle of the terrace, and there he 26 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. constructed a pretty little fountain. Its ruins were dis- covered in 1802, and repaired. The water now rises into a marble basin ; seats have been provided for visitors ; ornamental shrubs have been planted, and the whole place wears an aspect of mingled romance and beauty. A deep circular indentation in the rock, back of the fountain, was made, tradition affirms, by a cannon-ball sent from a STEPS LEADING TO KOSCIUSCZKO'S GARDEN. British ship, while the Polish soldier was occupying his accustomed loitering place, reading Yauban and regaled by the perfumes of roses. From this quiet, solitary retreat a pathway, appropri- ately called " Flirtation Walk," leads up to the plain. A WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 27 hort distance from Kosciusczko's Garden, upon a higher terrace, is Battery Knox, constructed by the cadets. It commands a fine view of the eastern shore of the Hudson, in the Highlands, and down the river to " Anthony's Nose." \-;ir by are seen the Cavalry Stables, and the Riding Hall, belonging to the Military Academy, and below there's seen the new landing. A little higher up on the plain are the groups of spacious edifices used for the pur- poses of the institution. The road from the plain to the landing was cut from the steep rocky banks of the river at a heavy expense to the Government. The wharf is spacious, and there a sentinel is continu- rlly posted, with a slate and pencil to record the names of all persons who arrive and depart. This is for the use of the Superintendent, by which means he is informed daily of the arrival of any persons to whom he might wish to extend personal or professional courtesies. West Point was indicated by Washington as early as 1783, as an eligible place for a Military Academy. In his message to Congress in 1793, he recommended the estab- lishment of one at AVest Point. The subject rested until 02, when Congress made provision by law for such an stitution there. Very little progress was made in the natter until 181-, when, by another Act of Congress, a orps of Mutineers and Professors was organi/ed, and the hool endowed with the most attractive features of a terary institution, mingled with that of a military char- ter. From that time to the present the Academy has 28 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. been increasing in importance as the nursery of efficient Army officers and skilful practical engineers. " The moon looks down on Old Cro' Nest, She mellows the shade on his shaggy breast, And seems his huge grey form to throw In a silver cone on the wave below ; His sides are broken by spots of shade, By the walnut bough and the cedar made, And thro' their clustering branches dark Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark Like starry twinkles that momently break Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack." " The Culprit Fay." WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 29 REMINISCENCES OF OLDEN TIMES. THE ATTEMPT TO BOMBARD THE SUPERINTENDENT'S HOUSE. Under the flag-staff on the plain, during the whole time I was at the Point, were two guns laid upon trestles, one a 12-pounder and the other a 24-pounder. The tradition accounting for the fact that they were thus dismounted, ran as follows : Sometime previous to 1823, these guns were mounted on their carriages. Early one morning the 24-pounder was discovered directly opposite the door of the Superintendent's house, close to the road, and pointed at the window just over the door. Upon examination, the gun was found to be loaded with a full cartridge, and double shotted, with a thick wad. In the vent was found a long fuze, or slow match of the kind then used to fire large guns. The fuze had been lighted, and had burned nearly up to the vent, but the previous night had been very stormy, and the wind and rain had evidently extinguished the match. Had the gun exploded, the front wall of the house would have been itered down, and loss of life would have taken place. In consequence of this murderous attempt, the guns were afterwards dismounted. 30 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. THE ATTEMPT TO BLOW UP THE OLD NOETH BARRACKS. The old North Barracks faced nearly east and west. It was four stories high, the upper one of which went by the name of "the cock-loft.' 7 Through each of the stories ran an entry or hall the entire length of the building. At each end of the lower hall was a door, only the south- ern one of which was ever used, the north door being THE NORTH BARRACKS. kept closed. There was also a staircase at each end of the hall, reaching to the cockloft. The north staircase was very seldom used, though it was entirely unobstructed. The lower story was used on each side of the hall exclu- sively for section rooms, and the upper stories for cadets 7 rooms. It was very seldom that any person went up or down the north staircase. A cadet now alive who graduated in 1824, told me that, for no reason he could think of, he once went down the north staircase late in the evening, and as he reached the lower landing he saw WKST TOIXT SCRAP-BOOK. a flickering light, and heard a queer sputtering noise, like tluit made by a half extinguished and wet candle. Curiosity led him to investigate the cause. He saw, not knowing what it was. a dark ball in the corner, from the top of which proceeded the light. Without exactly knowing what he did, he seized hold of that which was burning, and easily took it from the ball, which he then saw was a bomb-shell, and the burning substance a shell fuze, which, being too small for the fuze-hole of the shell, he easily drew out. The shell was found charged with powder, and if accident, or rather Providence, had not led him, contrary to his usual custom, to go down the north staircase, or if, even then, he had been aware of his clanger, the bomb-shell would have exploded, and pos- sibly the side of the barrack blown out. ESPIONAGE OVER THE CADETS. There was a prevalent belief in my day that the Super- intendent employed spies to report the misdeeds of cadets ; certain it is that he knew many things done in supposed secrecy, his knowledge of which was very un- accountable. Many instances of this extraordinary knowl- edge used to be related. The spies were supposed to be, : niongst others, the postmaster and the fellows whose wives were washerwomen, and one named " Lipsy " was peculiarly obnoxious on this account. One instance of this knowledge occurred to myself. In those days there was no fatigue uniform a hat with the rim cut off, 32 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. except in front to represent a visor, and covered with an oil-skin, did duty as a military cap. Any cadet who could get one, wore in winter a fur cap. One was sent to me in January, when the river was full of floating ice, and I was notified that the cap was at Cold Spring waiting for me to get it. I applied to the Superintendent for per- mission to go to Cold Spring one Saturday afternoon, and to draw a dollar from my pay for expenses, telling the Superintendent the reason. This permission he gave. Upon endeavoring to procure a conveyance across the river, the boatmen all said they would carry me over for nothing, but would charge five dollars to bring me back. Though I had only one dollar in my pocket, boy-like, I accepted the offer, and went over. I procured my fur cap, but on attempting to re-cross, found that even five dollars promised would induce no one to row me back, so I had to stay all night. Early the next morning, the river having frozen solid during the night, I walked back on the ice in time for reveille. Nothing was said to me about this adventure until the next time I had occasion to call at the Superintendent's office. After transacting what business I had, the Superintendent said to me : "You did not return to the Point the day you went to Cold Spring, as you promised, but you were excused because you made all the effort you could to return ; you relied on the promise of the boatman to bring you back/' He told me all that I had done, how cold I was when I arrived, how I refused to drink the liquor which I was offered, how hard a walk it was across the river ; and, in short, all the cir- cumstances as if he had been with me and he wound up WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 33 by saying that it was unjustifiably foolhardy to have gone at nil. * * * * * * * * * I once received a ten dollar bill through the post-office. In less than a week my father wrote me word that he had received a copy of the printed rules of the Academy, with particular reference to the one forbidding money to be sent to cadets. After graduating I found that the refer- ence was in the Superintendent's handwriting * While in the first class, I obtained permission to ride over the mountains on horseback to !N"ewburgh. On reach- ing the town my companion and myself were much fatigued and so were the animals. We went to the hotel and had our horses cared for. I would not go into the building, but walked on the piazza ; n iy companion, however, went in and refreshed himself with what he could find. We returned quite late at night. The next day my companion was placed in arrest, but I was let off. The next time I went to the Superintendent's ollice he told me that I had done well not to enter the h<;tel at Xcwlmrgh, but to walk on the piazza. It was impossible to discover who was the informant. The cause of the arrest was alleged to be ''absence from the post after tattoo ;" but as both were equally culpable in this respect, and neither blameworthy, the cause was (undoubtedly, ,^<>iiiLC into the hotel. After a week's arrest the other was released, but he ha 1 ridden a very hard horse and was terribly chafed, and the anvst. by relieving him of military duty, saved him from the doctor. There was no hospital in those days. 34 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. MESS-HALL KEMINISCENCES. Tho fare of the cadets in those days was much grumbled at, but I think never without reason. It consisted almost exclusively of beef, boiled, roasted, or baked for dinner ; cold, sliced, or smoked for breakfast and supper ; beef soup twice a week, and bread pudding with molasses on soup days. The bread was excellent, and huge batches were baked twice a week and stowed away in a great room. THE MESS HALT* The stale bread and the remnants it was believed were made into puddings. Once the Captain of the Mess-hall found in a pudding a nest of three or four mice. He forthwith carried the great tin pan which contained the pudding to the Superintendent, who dismissed him with the information that it was an accident which might easily happen. But immediately after that, for at least a month, the corps were served with roast geese and turkej^s in great abundance. The story was that this fare was forced upon the stew- ard as a punishment for the mice. It was more probably WKST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 35 a free-will offering from Mr. Cozzens, who was always a great friend to the cadets, and a universal favorite. While carver of my squad I once found that the tea came out of the great tea-pot less fluently than usual, and upon seeking the cause, discovered a dish-cloth in the bottom of the spout. Another time a carver fished out a fine- tooth comb from the pudding, and this brought another supply of geese and turkeys. The only man I ever saw eat pork and molasses was a Southerner. He would cut a slice of fat pork and cover it with molasses and esteem it the greatest luxury of the table. Yet it was always a standing jibe on the " Yankees 77 that they were "pork and molasses eaters. 77 Previous to 1820, the cadets on the fourth of July were allowed liquors, and they always had a sumptuous dinner. This was prohibited by the Superintendent in MI the fourth of July of that year, Major - , the Commandant, spread a table in his own house and invited the whole corps to partake ; wines, ices, and rich provisions in abundance. The story circulated afterwards that he and the Superintendent quarrelled in consequence of the dinner, and it never was repeated. OUR OLD COMMANDANT. was always a source of joy when Major W drilled the battalion ; his fine presence, military bearing, and enthusiasm, ami his sonorous and musical voice, in- fus.'d such spirit into the corps, that two hours' drill 36 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. under him was less fatiguing than an hour's drill under any of the Instructors of Infantry, especially under Lieu- tenant H , who would sometimes spend the whole time in executing two manoeuvres. Of these, I remember 11 Close column on first company, right in front;" and then "Into line faced to the rear/' following each other in endless succession. The Major sometimes drilled the battalion, mounted on an old charger that he had used in the war a long-tailed sorrel said to have been wounded when he was at the sortie of Fort Erie. On such occasions our only regretf was that he finished the drill too soon. He was a great martinet, and, strange to say, he was no favorite with the corps, who gave him the sobriquet of " Old Haughty," but his haughtiness was only military bearing. He was accessible always, and* kindly consider- ate of every cadet's feelings. I once carried him a "permit" written thus : "Cadet has permission to be absent from 1 p. M. untiH even- ing parade.' 1 He signed it, with this remark u One ' I' sir ; one * I' to until ; two ' I's ' to till. Never bring me a permit written so again. Remember, sir, spell until with one ' 1.' I have had occasion to correct many such errors." Late one night he returned to West Point from New York, having been absent several days. He always slept in camp in a marquee, close to the river front, his house being dismantled during the encampment. Of course he did not know the countersign. Attempting to pass the sentinel, he was immediately challenged " Who goes WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 37 there ?" " Commandant of the Post." " Advance, Com- mandant of the Post, and give the countersign." The Major advanced, threw open his cloak, and said: "I have been absent several days, do not know the countersign ; you recognize me, of course Major AV ," and he attempted to pass. The sentinel flew at him, ordered him to halt, upon penalty of being bayoneted, and called for the Corporal of the Guard. There the Major had to stand, in a drenching rain, until the Corporal of the Guard came and released him. The next day the sentinel who halted the Major was sent for, and instead of the i\ primand he expected, was highly complimented for his firmness and decision. * * After the death of Adams and Jefferson, on the 4th of July, 1826, I was Sergeant of the Guard, and, as such, charged with the firing of a gun every fifteen minutes one for each patriot. I was ordered to be very exact in tl e time, so that the intervals might be precisely fifteen minutes. The firing commenced at Reveille and was to se at Retreat. Shortly after morning parade I was sent for in great haste by the Commandant, to know why I disobeyed the order as to time. I denied disobeying the order, and insisted that the guns were discharged at the proper intervals. To avoid any further trouble, I loaded and touched them off myself, watch in hand. Again I was sent for, and rated soundly for failure. "What it all meant I could not understand, but the Major went with me to the guard-tent, and just as I touched off the gun, before its echoes died away, another report was heard. The Major then saw that I was not at fault. The cause 38 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. was the blasting of rocks just under Fort Putnam, which he had heard 7 but which I had not noted. Thereupon he had the blasting discontinued, and apologized before the whole guard for his unjust censure. HS********* Smoking was strictly prohibited after the first of Janu- ary, 1824. I always disregarded the prohibition, and suffered in consequence. The Major, however, would never notice it unless compelled to do so. One morning, after handing in my report as Officer of the Day, and being about to retire, he beckoned me to approach him again, and said, "The next time you come to ine officially, change your coat, it is reeking with tobacco smoke !" That time I escaped, but upon another occasion the Chief Engineer went through the barracks upon a tour of inspection, accompanied by the Major. My room was, as usual, redolent with tobacco smoke, and on the next Friday I heard read on parade, three reports one for smoking, one for allowing smoking in my room, being Orderly, and one for not keeping my room in good order. The first two, for positive and wilful disobedience of orders ; and the last for gross neglect of duty. * * * WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 39 THE BURIAL OF A CADET. I stood beside him when the sun "Was sinking in the west, Pouring his fading beams upon Banner and glittering crest. Save from his cheek, no passer by His boyhood could discern, For martial fire was in his eye His brow like manhood stern. I stood beside him, and I drew A veil of gauze away. His eyes were glazed ; cold, clammy dew "Upon his forehead lay. Around his form I saw them twine A shroud with many a fold ; I touched his lifeless hand to mine, 'Twas cold 'twas icy cold. I stood beside him, and helped bear His body to the tomb ; "Waving around the train, I saw Banner and sable plume. Onward they moved with voices dumb, To music, sad and drear ; vily rolled the muffled drum, Heavily creaked the bier. 40 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. I stood beside him, as they lowered His coffin in the ground ; I heard the grating of the cord, The falling clods resound. I saw his comrades near him stand, The parting looks they gave ; I heard the voice of low command, The volley o'er the grave. I stood above him as the sun. Was sinking in the west, I saw a stone engraved upon, To mark his place of rest. I saw the long grass waving high, I heard the wind's deep moan. A voice seemed whispering in a sigh, " He sleeps he sleeps alone 1 " WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 41 DISAPPOINTMENT AND REFORM; OB, THE TRICKS OF AN OLD SOLDIER. DRAMATIS PERSONS A COLONEL. A SURGEON. AN ASSISTANT SURGEON. HOSPITAL STEWARD. CADET COBPOBAL TBIM. " " CASEY. CADET PRIVATE BOB. CARELESS. BEN. GBOUKE. " JOE DONE. " " DAN. SHANNON. " " HUGH MALCOLM. ACT FIRST. SCENE IST. (A room in the South Barracks ; two mattresses on the floor, on which are two cadets sleeping. Time morning. Reveille is heard without.) [BoB. CARELESS awakes and rubs his eyes.] BOB. " Damn reveille*. " (Calls aloud. ) "Ben. Grouse, you sleepy head, wake np." [BEN. awakes with a start] BEN. "Has reveille beat yet?" BOB. "Yes, 'tis beating off; don't you hear it?'' [BEN. gets out of bed, and hurries on his clothes.] BEN. "I shall be late/ 1 42 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. BOB. " So shall I; so I won't go. Why the devil don't they beat reveille' longer?" (Yawns.) BEN. "You had better get up, Bob., and 'bone' your Math., we've got those three problems for review to-day." (Exit BEN. ) BOB. " Well, if the lesson is hard, I haven't time to learn it ; and if it is easy, I'll get it after breakfast. At any rate, I can go to the Hospital and get excused ; so I'll finish my nap." (Turns over, and goes to sleep.) SCENE 2o. (Dispensary in the Hospital. Phials on shelves around the room. On one side a table and book. A bench in the back ground. ) [Enter HOSPITAL STEWARD.] STEWARD. " Well, what shall I prepare for to-day? Soda and camphor powders, and camphor and soda powders, for everything. Sore toe, sprained ankle, costive- ness, headache, and nothing at all. The universal cure and prescription. Soda and camphor powders ; salts and rhubarb. The Doctor didn't give rhubarb as usual yesterday; so I guess he will give it to-day. How much is there? Plenty." [Enter DOCTOR.] DOCTOR. " Steward, did you give those soda and camphor powders to the cadet upstairs ?" STEWARD. "Yes, sir." DOCTOR. " How did they operate?" STEWARD. "I don't know, sir ; pretty well, I believe." DOCTOR. "Humph ! He'll get well by and by. I believe I'll go and see him." (Exit DOCTOR.) [Enter Cadet Corporal TRIM, and two other Cadets, one of whom is BOB. CARELESS.] BOB. " Steward, have you any chalk?" TRIM. " What do you want of chalk, Bob.?" BOB. " Oh, nothing : carbonate of lime is said to be very good in the morning." (Eats a piece. ) TRIM. (Smiling). " What is the matter with you, Bob ?" BOB. "Why, I'll be hanged if I know. What would you tell him? If I say I have cut my finger, I get a dose of salts ! If my head aches, then blue pills or calomel powders !" TRIM. "Tell him you feel a general debility." [Enter another squad of Cadets, looking sorrowful, and making wry faces. Not seeing the Doctor, they brighten up.] CORPORAL CASEY. " Trim, hasn't ' Old Walter' or ' Gil Bias' come yet ?" TRIM. " No, and I'll go if he don't come soon. It's a hard case that we have to come here every morning, Casey !" WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 43 ; Aye, Trim ; but every dog h.is his day." JOE DONE. " You here again, Bob. ; what in the deuce is the matter with you?" BOB. "Those three problems, Joe, made me sick. General debility, Joe! liveness, Joe! Dose of salts, Joe! Better than zero. Old Tom would eer- ily have me up to-day. What is the case with you to-day ?" JOE DONE. " I sprained my ankle going down to Benny's last night, with Dan mnon. " D\N. "Yes, and you would have left me in the lurch, if you had tumbled off, 1 did not know where I was." , [Re-enter DOCTOR.] (A general yawning ; faces are lengthened three inches.) (Bob. tries to look pale ; Joe Done hobbles to a seat ; Dan ties a handkerchief >und his head ; hoarse coughing and some sneezing, during which the Doctor :s his seat.) DOCTOR. "Steward, hem ! you may give the patient upstairs a dose of calomel, he seems to be a little feverish ; then a little rhubarb, he is a little costive ; and you must not give him anything to eat to-day but grueL Who comes first?'* TI:IM. " The sick -book of the 2d Company." DOCTOR. "Cadet Malcolm." (The first Cadet steps forward.) Well, Mr. Mal- colm, what is the matter with you to-day ?" MAiyCOLM. ' ' I don't know, Doctor. I feel very sick at my stomach, and I have a swimming in my head when I get up from my chair." DOCTOR. "Sick at your stomach, hey ? vertigo well, well, knock about, - take exercise stir yourself, nothing better except a dose of salts ! Next." [JoE DONE steps up. ] DOCTOR. " How do you do to-d.iy V" JOE DOSE. (Coughs) " Why, I have sprained my ankle, and my cold has not gorjo yet (coughs); those pills did not operate yesterday." (Coughs again.) DOCTOR. "Didn't operate, that's strange; let me feel of your pulse pretty qui.-k; your tongue (cadet shows his tongue) yes, well, take three powders to-morrow, and some salts to-day. I'll excuse you from duty." JOE DONE. (Coughs) "Yes, sir;" (aside "but your powders will go where the others went") MAI.O.I.M. "Doctor, I don't care about being excused from parade, I think I can attend to .'' DOCTOR. " Can't excuse you from anything to-day, Mr. Malcolm. Knock about ! k about ! and you'll gt-t well." MALCOLM. " But Doctor, I've taken a dose of salts !" DOCTOR. "Well, tlu-y will do you good." (Malcolm retires, saying aside "that's a hard case, I swear.") DOCTOR. "Next! Mr. Careless." 44 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. BOB CABELESS. "Oh ! Ah !'' (sighs bitterly and looks pale. ; DOCTOB. "Well, Mr. Careless, what is the matter with you to-day?'' BOB. " Why, sir, I was sunstruck yesterday, and I feel a general debility ; my head aches ; I'm costive, and I'm ." DOCTOB. " Let's feel of your pulse yes ! well ! hem ! did you go to breakfast this morning?" BOB. " No ! Yes, sir ! I went there." DOCTOR. ' ' How much did you eat ? Anything ?" BOB. "Why, yes, sir, I ate three very small pieces of toast, a little meat, and some coffee." DOCTOE. " Good appetite, Mr. Careless (enter Assistant-Surgeon) very good appetite, pulse pretty regular ; let me see your tongue." (Bob shows his tongue.) Good Heavens ! fever ! high fever ! sunstruck ! this warm weather apt to produce fever ! You say you have a good appetite ?" BOB. "No, sir ; you said so ; my appetite is not very good, oh !" DOCTOB. "Yes, sure sign of fever. DOCTOE (to Assistant-Surgeon) Cadet Careless was sunstruck yesterday, which has put him in a high fever a new case very difficult." AssisTAKT-SuEGEON. " Yes, sir, coup de soleil ah, I've heard of dangerous results from similar attacks. Ahem ! There was a^soldier once who ." DOCTOR. ' ' Steward, give Mr. Careless some soda and camphor powders. Mr. Careless, keep in the house to-day, and take care of yourself. I'll send you over something." BOB. (Retiring, says aside, " So much for chalk, but damn the powders.") DOCTOB. "Cadet Shannon." DAN. "Doctor, I've a bad headache, I did not sleep any last night, and I am not at all able to do anything to-day." DOCTOE. "Yes, yes ; give Mr. Shannon a dose of rhubarb." (Steward grins ; Dan makes a wry face, and says to the Steward in an under- tone, "Dam'me, old fellow, make it molasses." Steward to Dan "I can't, sir; we have none." Dan takes the rhubarb, and remarks aside "It's the last time you eaten me here.' ) [Exit all.] ACT SECOND. SCENE IST. (Superintendent s Quarters. ) (Enter SUPEEINTENDENT) " I must endeavour to prevent so. many applications for the future, they are too absurd. O, ho ! he shall suffer for it ! I'll not submit to it." [Enter DOCTOB. ] SUPEBINTENDENT. " Good morning, Doctor." DOCTOR. " Colonel, good morning ; here is the morning sick report, sir. Cadet WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 45 Bhrmnon was absent from quarters last night I'm sure of it, sir, and have reported him accordingly. " SUPERINTENDENT. "That is not strange. I have heard of it before this morn- ing ; but I have some private business with you ; but let's breakfast first." DOCTOR. " Thank you, Colonel ; but I can't this morning. Good morning. [Exit COLONEL and the DOCTOR.] SCENE 2o. (Guard room enter DAN SHANNON, who looks at the Sick Report.) DAN. "Well, now, if that infernal Surgeon hasn't left me off the Sick Report. What's this !' Absent from reveille' and from Academy.' I took a dose of that confounded rhubarb. I've made a fool of myself. I'll be hanged if I ever ." (Enter BOB CABKLESS.) BOB (laughing.) "What the devil is the row, Dan? You look as if you had beon drawn through a knot-hole." DAN. ' ' Well, I ve a reason to look so ; that confounded Doctor hasn't put me on the Sick Report, and I took a dose of that cursed rhubarb for nothing." BOB. " Well, Dan, I'll tell you a secret ; never tell him that you have a head- ache, or anything else that he can give you physic for, and be sure to chalk your tongue well. '* DAN. "No, may I be shot if you ever catch me playing the ' old soldier' again. But I'll see the old codger." (Exit in a rage.) FINIS. MAJOR BOB G . AJB, " Widow Machree." Now, my dear Commandant, 'tis no wonder you frown, Och ! hone I Major Bob G. ! Popularity for you is fast going down, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. I How altered we are in these dress hats we wear, And you've cut off our hair which should be flowing free, There's no longer a churl who can boast of a curl, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. I 46 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Oh ! my dear Commandant, you've reported us so, Och! hone ! Major Bob G. ! How to prevent being " found " we really don't know, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! To offer an excuse is no manner of use, If there's a word of abuse 'tis the first thing you see, And unless "milk and water " 'tis all quite improper, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! Now, my dear Commandant, without telling a lie, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! I don't think it exactly is proper to spy, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! We are really afraid, when we go to parade, As you stand in the shade, or behind some big tree, That you'll " pink " half the corps, or perhaps a few more, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! Some words of advice, my dear Major Bob G., Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! From somebody else, indirectly through me, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. ! Let us be as before you came into the corps, And don't drill us from four until time for tea, don't watch like a ferret to give us demerit, Och ! hone ! Major Bob G. FURLOUGH SONG OF 1829. Lady no cap is oij my head, No visor o'er my brow, I've lost my plume, and lost my heart, I'm not a soldier now.' 'EST POINT SCRAP-B( My uniform I've taken off, My " cits " I've just put on, And silk I've substituted for The leather stock I've worn. No more the sound of cannon grates "Upon my ear, as when It waked me up at break of day, I was a soldier then. But now without the reveille, I've learned to ope' mine eyes, And also can get up from tea, Without the word to "rise." I'm not at " rest " when I should talk, Don't flourish when I bow, Nor do I march when I should walk, I'm not a soldier now. I've changed to glancing at a dress, My " dressing at a glance," And 'form the " prompt manoeuvres " when Advancing up the dance. Lady no cap is on my head, No visor o'er my brow, I've lost my plume, and lost my heart, I'm not a soldier now. I've torn my " differential " up, The leaves Lord ! how they flew I And " integrals," and algebra, Are out the window too. The only " curvatures " I find, Are of a neck or brow. I've made my arms my " asymptotes,' 1 My lips my " tangents " now. 48 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. And if of wine I wish to know How much is in a cup, I place it even to my mouth, And " integrate " it up. The only " spirals " that I form, Are twined about one; how Would " Archimedes " or " Sinon " look, If they could see me now ! I've changed my " co-sines " all to " verse," So did the muse require. To boots, my " logarithms " as They raise me somewhat higher. My "sextant" and " theodolite " Are on the mountain's brow, And they may get themselves its " height," I cannot take it now. For all my " measures " now I tread, I " sight " through ladies' eyes. My " observations " are remarks, 'Mid fish my " angling " lies. And I can move without command, Can sit up after ten, Oh ! how unlike my former days, I was a soldier then ! THE FOUK O'CLOCKS. 'Tis four o'clock, the bugle blows, And whether now it rains or snows, Or fierce winds whistle all about, Be sure the girls will all be out. What is the strange mysterious power, That thus attends this mystic hour ? WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK:. Why does it cause the lasses all (No matter whether great or small) To pace the side-walk to and. fro ? Is it that each one wants a beau ? And eager for some dear cadet, Defies the snow, the wind, the wet ? It must be so, for ere that note H:is on the echoes ceased to float, They come in haste, a motley crew, In pink, in red, in black, and blue, And joining each a gallant "grey," Soon while a pleasant hour away. Each day they come, unfailing come, And stay until the signal-drum, "Which all their fondest wishes mocks, And scatters all the " four o'clocks." 49 FANNY ELLSLER'S PIROUETTE BY MOONLIGHT. Among the flying birds of passage which a few sum- mers since sojourned for a brief period at West Point, vv;r< the celebrated " danseuse " Mademoiselle Fanny Ellsler, accompanied by her male assistant, Monsieur Sylvester. Whether the temperature of August was unfavorable to the continuation of the vaulting exercise, or whether, in a spirit of benevolence, she thought proper to conceal under a long skirt those " caoutchouc" extremities which had turned the heads of the citizens of Baltimore, so it , that for two days Ma'm'selle ravished with her pres- ence the young hearts of the Corps of Cadets. Never e they more neatly apparelled, never performed they 50 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. their military duties in a more soldierly manner, than when conscious that the blue eyes of the " Maitresse du Ballet were observing their motions. Even the celebrated Ned Kendall, the leader of the band, was inspired by her presence. Waltzes and mazurkas, especially those which the charming "figurante '* honored in her dances, super- seded the usual inspiring marches by which the battalion was wont to muster, and as that war-accoutred body per- formed its evolutions, you would have irresistibly fancied that, instead of representing the combinations of a mimic battle, it was endeavoring to perform the figures of some gigantic dance, in which all the privates were "Sons of Mars/' and the officers sworded prompters. In the earlier and more sultry part of the afternoon, when the cadets were free to don their fatigue jackets, roll down their bed- ding, and nap it under the shelter of their tents, they might have been heard kicking the wooden floors of their 11 linen arbors'* in the delirium of " double shuffle/' and the ecstasy of the " pigeon-wing/' their tarantula recreations barely permitting to be recognized the lively solos of ac- companying flutes. After supper a universal " stag-dance'' of not less than fifty couples came off. This is a peculiar kind of affair, in which the dancers arrange themselves in two long lines, facing each other, inside of a lane of candles, half buried in the ground, and above these, three muskets forming a tripod, and each bayonet having a candle splut- tering on its point. Drums, fifes, and violins formed the orchestra. The cadets started with a simultaneous bound, involving them- selves inextricably, and it at last became s, " Did you give that command to your superior ?" You ask to be forgiven, say you'll never do so more, You didn't yet know all the "rules and articles of war." Next day they march you into camp. How pretty it does That you may fare the better, you have brought a cookery-bool * WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 81 You get in camp, an old cadet cries, " Come, put up this tent !" And with the aid he renders you, you're very well content. You thank him, take possession; when you find that all is done, He coolly tells you, " Plebe, it's mine; go, get some other one; " What you have done is only play; Plebes must make some mis- takes." Foul play, you think it is, in which you've put up all the stakes. To hoist another for yourself, your efforts now are bent; Oa studying the art of war, you find yourself intent. You've brought some dozen suits of clothes, but give a solemn look, To find the space assigned to them, is but a cubic foot. Never mind, you'll soon be great take Cuba, end your trials, Then, instead of cubic feet, you'll have some cubic miles. Now come drills, those long squad drills, upon the scorching plain, Like people in the desert wilds, your only hope is rain. Sand gets in your shoes, and rubs and burns like lighted candles, Wonder why the people in such soil do not wear sandul*. Though drums disturb you every hour, you utter not a word, But think how happy Sir John Moore, when "not a drum was heard." You probably are six feet high, some officer you dread, Arrests you at the break of day for lying lony in bnl. Your coat is made, you button it, give one spasmodic cough, And do not draw another breath until you take it off. You've heard of Senators who make a speech up in great haste, And long for what they mention, the Cadet's small "w waist." 82 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. How singular the conduct of these wisdom-bearing herds ! If waists are to be laughed at, it should be their waste of words. July the Fourth at last arrives you think it rather hard "When on this day of Liberty, the " Plebes " must go on guard. You go on post, the night arrives, you scarcely are alive, But still a lonely watch you're keeping down on "No. 5." First you like this quiet post, the path's so nicely levelled; Soon you share the fate of ham that is, you're nicely " devilled." Bodies vast of men approach, and sound their rude alarms; From divers punches you receive, you find they all have arms. Baggage-wagons, ropes, and ghosts upon your post appear, Teeth begin to chatter though of course, it's not through fear. A spirit white you seize upon, and hold it on your post, Until the corporal arrives, when you give up the ghost. When in a one-wheeled cart you fall, that's moving up behind, To rapidly desert your post you're forcibly inclined. A. storm comes up, the rain comes down, and soaks your thin white pants ; You think they might find better work for "tender hot-house plants." Now if your pants were made of cloth, you wouldn't care a shilling, But like your summer afternoons, they're all made up of drilling. WEST POIXT SCRAP-BOOK. Then you say you shall resign, the climate is too damp, But once within the tented field, you find you can't decamp. Resolving then to be content, there's no more hesitation, You find more satisfaction in this kind of resignation ; Spartan-like, you stay until encampment has an end, In this period you find your times bogin to mend. 83 "When iu the art of soldiery you ve once become adepts, You welcome with a joyous smile the coming of the " Seps ; " Those that come before the time are pre-cepts for the rest, Who wait outside till camp breaks up, and think the barracks best. The first who come walk into camp with quite a lordly step, For where is found more dignity than in an August " Sep ? " The noted " Twenty-ninth " arrives, and crowds of folks attend, For camp, like all things, save a hoop, you find must have an end. Our honored General-in Chief is there to see the sights, Whoso valiant arm so often won the victory in our fights. Some drummers come, all armed with sticks, you know there'll be a fray, They've come to " beat the General," you plainly hear them say ; Base cowards ! you think, thus to attack a man of such great fame ; You'll go and warn him of their threat, immortalize your name. 84 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Running through the crowd in breathless haste, at last you meet him, "Whisper " there's a mutiny, some men have come to beat him." He thinks you joke. (Bad joke says you, that's given you such a bother.) Pats your head and says, " You'll be a man before your mother." Camp's broken up, you're broken down, you've come to the belief You'd like to always be on guard, for there is a relief. Filled with joys of barrack life, a letter home you send, Soon you find " of making many books there is no end." T/V, Much study, too, you must admit, when starting out afresh, Although you call it" boning," is quite weary to WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 85 You meet new hardships every day, yourself you are beside, You get a problem in Descriptive which you can't describe ; You go to fencing, and we'd think, from punches, wounds, and scars, That you could kill as many men as can the Erie cars. That this will be no use to you, you often make complaint, Save at examination, when you want to try a feint (faint), >'///-'> / ( ^ #'< t -v\V *{ 7 J_ g*jj/ Or when you try to bugle it, he will not wait for Bentz. You look at your instructor, and would like to take offence (a fence). They put you in the nursery that is, in Company "B." In January, many children, foundlings prove to be ; 86 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Those who leave, excuses make, and one will say, though smarter Than half the fellows in his class, they did not make him " marker ;" Others say the board's too high, take vessels in the offing, Cruise in the Gulf, since men-of-war are boarded there for nothing. You weather through the year and find that June's not very far, Which finally arrives, and you a " Plebe " no longer are, To leave your gloomy barrack-rooms you're summoned by the drum, And many hearts beat high to think Third Class encampment's come, When you find you all are men, and are no longer babies, Think you must devote your whole attention to the ladies, Go to hops, those charming hops, where all is so exciting, Sashes red, and buttons bright, black eyes that shoot forth lightning. As thus you pass your life away, of death you've not a fear, Find hops will always make you look with favor on the bier, You give a girl your buttons, lace, at last you throw your heart in, You little think whatyfames will rise when first you go out sparkin, An angel dressed in crinoline, you to her side, now becks, As she must still remain " unknown," we'll have to call her " X." She occupies one half the room, the space is more than fair, If radius we call large K, the area's TT K 2 . The rustle of her dress alone would charm ten thousand troops, Much pleasanter the sound than that of wild Camanche whoops. You blush whene'er " X " looks at you from out that mass of lace, Which proves that " X " must enter the { ' expression " of your face. The music starts, you gently take her in your arms. What bliss ! You now can say you have your " X " in a parenthesis. " Faster still " she whispers, though you're giddy and half sick, Your heart which once kept " common time," now moves at " double quick." Faster yet you're going round, ten " X's " now you see, She hugs you with her sleeveless arms till you cry " Bare with me,'' To get yourself from her embrace you'd now give fifty farms ! Says she: " Since you're a soldier you shall have, sir, two bare a? (to bear arms). Your head's becoming dizzier, you stagger a good deal, And what was started as a waltz is ending in a reel. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Sash comes down, she steps on it, to fall is now your doom, And knock down nine Militia Generals standing in the room. By deafening sounds of drums the hour of ten is intimated, All rush madly from the room, " X" is now "eliminated." To marry her you're half inclined, " Shall you not or shall you ?' Half the night you lie awake discussing ' X's " value. 87 Text day you take a walk with her around the famed " Flirtation," Find her all false hair, false teeth, false smiles, and affectation. That she may have an honest heart is still your honest prayer, But soon you find the heart no better than the teeth and hair. While swearing that you love her, and appreciate her oharms, You tell her you're a soldier, she says "But a child in arms." Others come, and better ones, who stop at the hotel, Oh ! what a tale of broken hearts that old north stoop could tell ! Then come little presents of a kerchief, ribbons, gloves, And what is prized above the rest, they often give their loves. Some who sew on handkerchiefs, what shall we say of them ? When questioned what they're working at will simply say " a-Ju-m." Another " Twenty-ninth " arrives, the camp again is struck, This time you go out quietly, and have much better luck. To breaking up the scenes of camp you've serious objections, For ladies, hops, " Flirtation " walks, give place to conic sections. 88 WEST POINT SCRAP-B-)OK. Troubles do not leave you here, you must have some, of course ; Strange as you may think it, you must learn to ride a horse. You have read of bold dragoons that every danger scoff, Stories do not speak, alas ! of troopers falling off. Nothing on your feet but shoes, the horses bare-backed all, How will ever you obey the Boots and Saddle call ? Many books have you toiled through, all written by great sages, Do not you deserve a pair, if spurs are won by pages ? Now you "stand to horse," and say you'll not get in a fright, Still you ask a soldier if he thinks your horse will bite. Then you mount a thing that you before had never tried, Make a mighty effort landing on the other side. Finally you get your seat, the other troopers follow, Horse's back's a catenary, you are in the hollow. When seated in this valley the instructor's heard to say, Like Joseph to his brethren " Do not fall out by the way." Horses move, the riders too, and things look queer to you, Seldom have you seen the world from such a point of view. And when your horse begins to trot, you think he's not so tame, You're not much of a rider, but a good boy in the mane. Reaching back you make a grab, and clinch with every nail, Think you'd be relieved to have the burden of his tail. Speed increases, now you try to seize your reins. Don't falter ! Can't call this a bridle tour, you've only reached the (h) alter. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 89 Your instructor sees you bounce until your cheeks look floppy, Thinks you've ridden on the course, how nicely you can " jockey." Looking round, you see your friends are now disposed to banter, Think you'll get another horse, yours doesn't pace nor canter. Suddenly he takes the gallop; horrors! ! ! what a motion ! Movement comes from front to rear like waves upon the ocean. Soon you're told he gallops wrong; to make him change the step, Teach him then as you've been taught by loudly crying " Hep 1 " All your efforts are in vain, and forth your mutterings burst, Still looking out for " No. 1," he " puts his best foot first," And by using gentle means his favor can't be courted, Wonder why instead of you the horse is not reported. Getting sea-sick now you roll from one side to the other, How you wish you'd never left the fireside of your mother. A whip is cracked, the horse's head goes down and you go up, And from the rate of travel think that in the skies you'll sup. Up you go till near the roof, but do not reach the skies, Think you are an aeronaut, but surely air not Wise. What goes up comes down again, and you, with looks not placid, Are making crude experiments in testing tannic acid. A spring some call this, some a/a//, and some a summer-set, A seasonable joke is heard to come from each cadet. Limping out, you start for home and think you've earned your salary, Meet with sympathizing looks from ladies in ihe gallery. With your lady friends up there you've fallen half in love, All cadets have learned to set their hearts on " things above." To take a gallop in the hall again you would not dare, Although you would not hesitate to take a gal up there. Some will say that riding's fun, such views you can't endorse, Say you'll never ride again save on o hobby horse. Now you think of other things, for home you soon will go, That period of bliss to spend, that's called cadet furlough. Furlough clothes you then get on, demerit you get off; Donning thus a suit of blue, the grey you gladly doff. When you've reached the city, and arrived at your hotel, 90 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Heedless of expenses, you are bound to " cut a swell." See a classmate followed round by boys at least a score, Say he shan't surpass you, so you hire twenty more. If his train of little boys has each a dirty face, Make your own roll in the mud, determined to keep pace. Though you know your leave ia not to leave the States, you do, Heedless of the consequences, Jersey you pass through. Hurrying along as happy as a man can be, Never do you stop until your cherished home you see. Home ! the dear old place whence all your boyish pleasures came, Who is there so base as not to bless the sacred name ? "When at last you enter, and are by the family met, With kisses, smiles, embraces, sobs, you're instantly beset. How you first appreciate this serving Uncle Sam, Urchins in the street all cry : " O ! there's a soger man." Meeting some old fogy friends they say : " Why, how d'ye do "Tell us how at Western P'int they put you fellows through." " Well," you say " it is but right that of it I should speak, Laboring both day and night, we eat but once a week. Then the fare at mess is such that when we get our share, Cattle could not eat it. you can scarcely call it fair. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 91 They load us in a cannon if in ranks we do but cough, Saying when they light the match, ' This time we'll let y>u off: linking you're from Utah, an old lady at you sings, ' Were you badly wounded at the fight at Eutaw Springs ? ' ' Ladies make large parties, each an invitation sends, You're engaged to twenty-seven when the summer ends, Just before you leave, the twenty-seven round you close, Begging for a lock of hair, a button off your clothes. What a fright ! ! ! you've yielded to the charming twenty-seven, Buttonless your coat, no hair between your head and heaven. Coat is ruined, buttons gone no matter, let it pass, Never were there women seen with such supplies of brat*.*. Furlough now is nearly gone, and back you lake your way, Feeling that to melancholy you've become a prey. Furlough time is soon forgot, that life of wild romance, Though often do you feel for missing pockets in your pants. Painting now you undertake, although in fifty cases Your instructor asks you why you will paint female faces. When you ask what paints to use, with countenance growing sadder, Though he sees you now are mad, he tells you to get raac/'Ar. You give your brush a dab in any color you can find, Destroying both your piece of painting, and your peace of mind. Now you find astronomy included in your course, Though it's of the greatest use, of trouble it's the source. 92 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Here you learn a thousand things unknown in the past, Thought the Earth went slowly round, but now you find it's fast. Though there 're mountains in the rnoon, of trees there's not a mark, Save when dogs look at it, when we often notice bark. Soon, alas ! you feel within you all your former dread, "When you're told that with your sabre you must cut a head. Others cut at those on posts, that fall without a groan, You who scorn such artifice would rather cut your own. Making once a mighty cut, you pay for it quite dear, Horse and you both tumble down, though holding by his ear. When you rise you find that this is rather a bad throw, Limping from the hall to the hospital you must go. Though such hospital-iiy you hate, you have to try it, Saying you can't live it through, they tell you, you must diet. Here you stay till muster day, with many others clustered, Matrons, stewards, attendants, like your blisters, then are mustered Soon you're out, for wounds like these cannot your ardor damp, Then we find you entering the famous First Class Camp. Last encampment ! what a sound ! there's magic in the word ! But you're now so dignified, rejoicing were absurd. You've become a creature who must henceforth be a star, Not approached by common men, but gazed at from afar. Knowledge vast is in your brain, you know what " enfilade " is, How to get ten " lates " a day, and and how to please the ladies. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 93 First Class Camp, that trying time ! you scarcely would believe it, He's indeed a lucky man who unengaged can leave it. Soon you're smitten with a face, for you now comes the rub, How you wish a month before, you'd joined the " Bachelor Club." Graceful form, coquettish smiles, she cannot help exposing, Do not think I mean to joke by saying she's imposing. She swears by all the gods of love she'll smile on none but you, Says all this in innocence, which in-no-sense is true. Soon she leaves; with tearful eyes, you see her to the carriage, Looking in the Herald two weeks after, there's her marriage. Finally the camp breaks up ; you say farewell to tents, Leaving such a dwelling-house, no soldier e'er repents. Barrack life again commenced, you exercise your skill, In finding out the surest means your fellow men to kill. Treat ;i f<>n humanely, you are told, though try to beat, If to treat he should refuse, you never must re-treat. "What a sight, from stooping over desks, you now present ! You, who once was so erect, are now on study />/*/. Soon a longing for excitement in your bosom dwells, Think you'd like to " run it," so you take a trip to " Spell's." You suppose there's little danger, that the road is clear, Till vou meet an officer ; there's then some cause for fear. 94 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. He seizes you, you lose all power, and stand fixed to the ground, He asks you what you're doing there, you tell him you're Spell-bound. Home you go, for on this subject no more hints you need, Punishment you know will follow closely on the deed. Anxious thoughts are soon dispelled, and then you change your tune, Thinking only of the fact " You'll graduate in June." You get measured for your clothes, a bran new uniform, Three times a day you try it on evening, noon, and morn. You get a regulation hat, a sabre, too, and belt, The hat you find is like the want of beauty in it -felt. One regret you deeply feel, you still have no moustache, Thoug'h on your upper lip you've used most every kind of trash. Some friends pronounced tricopherous, the best they ever saw, You seize upon it, like a drowning man upon a straw. The last three months seem like a year, how slowly time does fly ! You find it only April, when it ought to be July. June, at last, arrives, which is to end your labors here, You're to get a " parchment," of all things to you most dear. J * WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 95 Th He The Board will rise 'midst banners, flags, and your diplomas hand ye, With " Hail Columbia," " Auld Lang Syne," and " Yankee Doodle Dandy." Joy intoxicates you, all your sorrows now have fled, Scarcely do you know if you are on your heels or head. e day arrives which has so often many happy made, When you put on your " fixings," to attend your last parade. How proud you feel when marching to the " Sergeant Dashing White," turning on your " Winding Way," you're prouder still that night. You say to all your friends from whom yourself you now must tear, If of your home they come within two miles, they must stop there. A parting word, a warm embrace you give to each classmate, And bid the Point a long farewell a happy GRADUATE. THE CADET'S BABY. am a military man, not a private in the ranks, but an officer these many years. I have seen service in Florida, in Mexico, on the borders, and I bear of "honorable scars' 7 a few. I was just seventeen, a cadet at West Point, I was on my way home for the first time within three years. Kurly in the morning I took my seat in the cars from New York to Boston. I wore my uniform, and (I may own up now) was not so unconscious or indifferent as I seemed, to the many admiring glances young ladies be- stowed upon it, and the embryonic Colonel or General within. Toward the middle of the forenoon, an Irish- woman got into the cars. They were crowded, and she, 96 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. not having the respect for the military which others had shown, took what was almost the only unoccupied seat, and by my side. I am, or was, a Democrat. The woman was well clad and clean, so I kept my place. In her arms she held a child a young baby of some six or eight months. It was a plump, lovely, happy little thing. I had a very unmanly and unselfish weakness for babies and children, and it was so long since I had been so near to either, that I petted and noticed this little creature con- siderably. At noon the train stopped for fifteen minutes. Most of the passengers got out. I meant to have the novelty of a six o'clock dinner in Boston, so I did not stir from my seat. Seeing that I did not, the woman begged to know if I would hold her baby for a few moments while she got out. I assented. She put the child in my arms and vanished. The minutes passed away ; one by one the passengers returned ; presently, when the bell rung, a crowd came with a rush to resume their places; the locomotive started; we were off ; and where, oh ! horror of horrors ! where was that woman ? My hair began to rise, and the sweat to start from ever pore. Still I waited, hoping that the woman would finally come to assume her responsibility. A quarter of an hour elapsed, everybody was quietly seated, and still I held that child. People began to stare; young ladies to titter. I felt myself as red as a lobster. The conductor passed through, I stopped him. With a shaking finger, I pointed to the burden in my arms, and stammered out something about the mother having been left behind. l WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. '*' What the d !" he exclaimed, as his eye fell on the child. " Well, you're in for it, and no mistake. I saw that woman, after she got out, streaking it like mad away from the depot, but I thought she had her young one with her. YouVe nicely took in and done for, that's a fact." "But what's to be done with the child?" I asked. " Don't know, I am sure. How far are you going?" "To Boston, to-night." "Then I guess you'll have to carry it as far as there. Then you can take it to one of the hospitals, or asylums, where they attend to this sort of business, and leave it. Perhaps some of these ladies will help you to take care of it till we get to Boston ;" and the conductor passed on. As he went for- ward, evidently he told the story, for heads began to turn, and then men and boys came sauntering in from the other cars to see the fellow that had the baby left with him. Plenty of jokes were cracked at my expense, for every now and then I heard a regular guffaw, and some such phrase as u Precious green, eh !" " Such a go !" " Looks fatherly !" etc. I was in a rage. My blood boiled furiously. One minute I wanted to swear, the next to kiek every person and thing in the car. I suppose in my passion I gave the poor little thing in my arms a grip, for she uttered a quick, little cry. She stopped in a moment, and I looked at her. She lay in my arms, so innocent and helpless, fair an of others, made room for me on the seat with their 100 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. nurse. I explained the affair to him, told him my name, and found that my family was not unknown to him. As we talked I saw that his wife, listening, examined the dress of the child on her lap, felt of its texture, and finally unclasped some chains that held up its sleeves. A little miniature was set in the clasp of each. She looked at them, then she said : ' I am convinced, sir, that the woman who abandoned this child to your care is not its mother. In the first place, no mother could do such a thing ; then, this baby's clothing is of the most exquisite make and quality, and in these sleeve-chains are two miniatures. See, one a gentleman with epaulets ; the other, a beautiful woman, evidently a lady. Depend upon it, the child is a stolen one, or came into her hands by some unfair means. What can be done ? " " Do not be troubled, madam, about the fate of this child. After the possibility, or probability, you have sug- gested, I shall not leave it in Boston. I will take it to my mother, and advertise the case. If its parents are found I shall be glad ; and if not, I think my mother will care for the rest. " Only,' 7 I added, "I wish the meeting were safely over. 77 The lady's eyes sparkled through tears. " I can't tell you," she said, "how what you have done, and are doing, seems to me ; but I think you too noble to dread any- thing. I will answer for the mother who has such a son!' " Softly, softly, if you please,'' expostulated her laugh- ing husband ; " don't be quite oblivious of the fact that I exist." WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 101 14 She turned to him with a look that must have silenced the veriest grumbler in the world. AVe reached Boston, took a carriage together, and only at the hotel entrance did my new friend bid me adieu. " God bless you !' ? said the beautiful, noble woman, as she gave me back my baby. I should have knelt, and kissed the hand of such a princess, but my arms and I were then so awkward at baby tending, that nothing seemed a possible accomplishment at one and the same time. The clerk glanced suspiciously at me and my burden. u We are full, sir ; not a room to be had. 7 ' I sent for the proprietor, and again my name vouched for me. AVhat a blessing it is to have a family in the land! "But where in the world, Mr. Edward/' he demanded, "did you get that child?" I told the story. He shook his head, but said nothing. I sent for a chambermaid to come to my room. I begged of her to take care of the child during the night. At first she would listen to nothing. I put my hand in my pocket ; I gave her a ridiculously large bribe, but I was young and green. She took the child. " But shmv. an' ye're not the young gentleman that 'ud be after laving yer baby! Holy Vargin ! my character 'ud be ruined intirely, intiivly." I assured her of the rectitude of my intentions, and -eut her oft'; but she was at my door in the morning before 1 had left my bed, and nothing would induce her to keep her charge another instant. I took the stage for my country home. The driver recogni/,ed the lad he had driven so often over the same road.. " How you've 102 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. grown, to be sure, Mr. Edward ! Your folks won't know you, I'm thinking, 'specially with that baby in your arms. Seems to me, you're getting to be a family man a little too early." I laughed, and took my seat ; but as we began to near my home, I grew terribly nervous and cowardly. The house stood back some distance from the road, and as 1 walked up from the gate, I saw the whole family gathered on the piazza to welcome me. I think I should rather have walked up to the cannon's mouth. My sister started down the steps to meet me, then stopped. I stepped up on the piazza. My mother, pale as death, sunk into her chair. My pretty cousin Ella, on whom I had always, from round-jacket days, been sweet in a sneaking sort of a way, darted an annihilating glance at me, and ran to support my mother. My father advanced : " What do you dare to bring here, you shameless young rascal ? Is this a place He broke down, so angry, that utter- ance was absolutely impossible. At any other time I should have shouted with laughter at the ludicrous spec- tacle he presented ; now I only hastened to tell my story. In a few moments my mother's arms were around me, my sister and cousin were contesting a Taari for possession of my baby, and my father recovered from his rage suffi- ciently to welcome his only son, though I did hear him growl through his white beard *' Confounded spoony!" I advertised far and wide to no purpose. But my baby grew so into the affections of all the household that I had no other steps to take. We named her Perdida, and I left her with my mother. When I returned two years WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 103 after, on graduating, I found her grown heavier and pret- tier, and she manifested great affection for me, charmingly legitimate, for was she not "my baby? 7 ' As such I cher- ished her. She was six years old when at last I left W Point for active service. After that I led a wandering and adventurous life for years, "by flood and field.' 7 "My baby " wrote meat first often. Her first letters were curious specimens- halt' written, half printed, and sometimes her meaning eked out with rude drawings. In those days she was charmingly personal. "I do so and so I think so and so I love so and so. 77 But years changed her caligraphy, and, alas, the feelings of her letters. Now, in her charm- ing girlish characters, stood : l ' Your mother does so and so,' 7 or "your sister thinks, and loves, 77 etc. My mother wrote : 11 We can't call Perdida * your baby 7 any longer. She does not permit the title, and you, were you to see her, could scarcely imagine that our fair young queen was ever a baby. I am too old to be enthusiastic, but our darling is surely the loveliest vision these eyes have ever rested on. She makes hearts ache, but as yet their pain is vain. We tried to be so cautious, but she has somehow learned about her finding, and it is bitter knowledge to the proud little heart. It may be that that makes her melt only toward us. Will you never come home to see us ? Will you never come home to see us and her ? 77 It was in the spring of the year 1856. I was on my way home to America. An elderly gentleman, who had evidently been a soldier, occupied the state-room next to 104 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. mine. A similarity of taste and feeling brought us much together during the voyage. He had been absent from the country many years. " When I left it," said he to me, " I meant never to revisit the shores that had been accursed to me. I lost there my wife and child under the cruelest circumstances, and 1 could not remain. I thought, then, I could never see again the spot that had been so fatal to me. And yet, I return now, impelled by some feeling which I can neither account for nor resist. I dream that I am going to see my child ; sometimes, even in waking moments, I am fully convinced that I shall find her." "How?" I interrupted, in spite of myself. " Is not your child dead ? " "Alas! I do not know." 11 You do not know. Did she not die before you left America ? " No. Three months ago I should have said I wished she had, rather than live lost to me, exposed to fates I shudder to think of. Now, I am more hopeful more trustful. It seems to me she has been kept pure, and that I shall know her. And yet," and he sighed heavily, " I haven't the shadow of a reason for such hope and trust," I was excited I compared the remembrance of the miniature on " my baby's " sleeve-chain with the figure before me. I made him explain all. He told me of the child's birth, the delicate health of his wife afterward', his taking her to Cuba, leaving the child in, as he supposed, trusty care, the death of his wife in Havana, and while he WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 105 was still in the first anguish of her loss, news from his child's nurse of its death, and of her speedy return to Ireland. He came to New York, too late to find her, and left America at once, as he supposed for ever. In Europe, years afterward, he had met a servant who had been with him during his brief married life, and who declared to him positively that his child was not dead at the date on which the woman had written him ; but further than that he could not say, as he had followed the fortunes of another master. The unhappy father sought vainly for the woman, and now returned, as a last means, to America. He described the child's nurse. It was the woman who had abandoned her child in my arms, and the face before me was the changed, aged one of Perdida's miniature. Not many days thereafter I returned to my friend his so early lost child, and gave up "my baby' 1 to her rightful father. Without a pang ? Yes. Did I console myself with the pretty cousin aforementioned ? She hadn't had patience to wait, that I might do so ; a husband, and several olive branches, precluded that. How, then ? I saw " my baby " a stately, radiantly beautiful woman. She called me Major - , she treated me in the most precise and formal way the utmost favor she bestowed upon me, was the .slightest possible touch of the fingers as she bade me good-night, or good-morning, and I saw her hourly in her idolizing father's arms, lavishing the tenderest caresses upon him. Would I have it otherwise? No. There was a dearer delight in the way she treated me ; the faintest Hush that colored her cheek when I was near her, or 106 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. addressed her, had for me an inexpressible sweetness that I wouldn't have bartered for aught on earth short of what I eventually obtained. What ! you don't mean that you, a scarred old veteran, of between thirty and forty, dared? Didn't I! Hum! And this was the way of it. In my military capacity I was invited to West Point. I went, and my friend and his daughter accompanied me. I sat beside her in the cars. The happy old gentleman, at a little distance, reading diligently. I said : 14 Perdida, you have travelled this route before with me ; do you recall the scenery at all ? " She blushed scarlet, and looked at me beseechingly. I went on : " To think what a heavy, hungry, unpacifiable baby I carried on that day, and the way that poor cadet's humanity was ridiculed ! " The tears started, and the young lady at my side bowed her haughty head. " And the worst feature in the case is, that he has never had any suitable recompense A good deed is its own reward, to a certain degree, of course ; but in this case every feeling of my soul, every fibre of my heart, demands something more. Perdida ! my dar- ling, these seventeen years I have lost you to your father but I cannot bear it. Be generous. Here, here where I found ' my baby, 7 give, oh ! give her back to me ! She raised her head. " If she were as much trouble now as then ! " " My darling, 'don't trifle ! Am I to have you? " My young lady answered not. Instead, she occu herself with deliberately drawing off her glove. Then she turned to me : i sue WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 107 "Since you will be troubled/' and she laid her small white hand in mine. Mine again. Shortly after, we were married. I carried Perdida, dur- ing our wedding tour, to the friends I had found for her and myself in the cars seventeen years before ; and this time right reverently I kissed the gracious hand that had then sweetly tended what was now become my earthly all. SHOULDER-STRAPS. Pray tell me, mamma, what the shoulder-straps mean, That on the blue-coats of our officers gleam, You know they're so different, now why should it be, That not even the uniform buttons agree ? I've noticed, for instance, a blank, and a bar, Two bars, leaves of silver, of gold, and a star, Two stars, and an eagle, now what may it menn, On scarlet, or orange, light blue, or dark green ? " " Now, listen, my daughter, and pray take heed, For the income and straps of a beau are agreed; You may dance with a leaf, and flirt with a bar, But reserve your best smile for the eagle and star, And remember the fence with nothing within, Is the field of the stripling, whose spurs are to win ; A poor Secoml Lieutenant, perchance still in debt, For the clothes he wore out as a West Point Cadet." " And if on the field, a bar should appear, Your prudence, my darling, should lead you to fear; For if left a lone widow, the pension's so small, Your gloves and fir at mourning would swallow it all. And e'en with your Captain, who flourishes two, Don't prefer the gay Line to the Staff's sober blue; 108 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. For the difference per month, in the matter of pay, Not to mention the forage quite wiles one away. " Next in order are leaves, but here you reverse Each value metallic in prose and in verse; For though gold be a Major, the silvery hue Marks the Lieutenant-Colonel, on scarlet or blue. Then, over the forest, and 'neath the bright stars, Soars the eagle the lord of the leaves and the bars; Besides, 'tis suggestive of eagles that fly, When the wife of the Colonel her bonnets would buy. " Above all, my darling, still honor the star, Though it shines 'neath a silver-head, better by far To catch some old General, than make him afraid, And you won't be the first to command a brigade." " I've heard you, dear mother, and thought it all o'er, My heart's with the lover who went to the war; You know the poor boy has not even a bar, But I'd rather be his than the bride of a star! " REMINISCENCES OF AN OLD GRADUATE. NATURE S SENTINELS. * * * Break-neck Hill, Bull Hill, Butler Hill, and Cro 7 Nest brood in silent quaternion over the peaceful Hudson, as if in some mnemonic reverie of those Titans whose giant strength clave asunder their native union "in the olden time before." During this dream of the ages, a scanty investiture of scrub-trees has mellowed the shades on their shaggy breasts, and the dark lichens in hardy legions have encamped o'er the bald rocks, blackening TVEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 109 their primal feldspathic blush into the similitude of rude, unshaven monarchs. cannot but feel an involuntary pity for the new cadet, who is just landing at the old wharf, where a sentinel is waiting to conduct him to the Adjutant's office, there to record his entrance on he knows not what small and great tribulations. The poor fellow has just left the endearments of home, and, by a rapid transition, has now become a stranger among the mighty hills. But worst of all, instead of receiving kindly hospitality, he becomes, for a time, one of an inferior caste, towards whom, too often, the finger of derision is pointed, and over whom the Fourth Class drill- master flourishes, with too snobbish zeal, his new-born authority. Once, too, he was deemed a fair subject for all kinds of practical jokes, often coarse and witless, which disgusting heathenism, Heaven be praised ! is passing away, being more and more under ban, and is now, I believe, laudably loathed as ungentlemanly by the cadets them- selves. Then, too. to be called a " conditional thing/' a "thing," and a " Plebe/' in slow promotion ; to be crowded five in a room, with the floor and a blanket for abed ; to be twice or thrice a day squad-drilled in " eyes right, " and "left face/' in " forward march/' and in the intricate achievement of" about face;'' to be drummed up, and drummed to meals, and drummed to bed, all with arithmetic for chief diversion ; this is, indeed, a severe ordeal for a young man who is not 110 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. blessed with good nature and good sense ; but with these excellent endowments it soon and smoothly glides on into a harmless memory. People are found who contest that West Point is a hot-bed of aristocracy, where caste and titles rule. It would be pleasing to exhibit to such an one the ununiformed new class, presenting a line of about one hundred young men of all types, at least in externals. Side by side are seen the flabby Kentucky jean and the substantial home-spun the ancient long-tailed, high- collared coat of the farmer's boy, and the exquisite fit of the fashionable Xew York tailor. The hands used to work dangle in contact with the unsoiled fingers of a diplomat's son, or of the petted scion of an " F. F. V." * * * * We have known two Presidents' sons, two proteges of G-eneral Jackson, several sons of Secretaries, and other high functionaries, found deficient for the simple reason that they were deficient; and we have known heads of classes exalted ab aratro, simply for their superior merits. Before us lies a little volume, by a Vermont farmer's son, who successfully competed for the headship of his class with a talented son of Henry Clay. HE DONS THE CADET. v,^ After three or four weeks of squad-drills, and the safe passage of his preliminary examination, the 11 thing " becomes a full-pledged u Pie be," and assumes the cadet uniform. Happy day ! on which he sheds the motley badge of his rude probation, and when the last black coat vanished from the daily marches of the grey battalion that <; fiery mass of living valor, rolling on to '-BOOK. ! " Cadet grey is a peculiar fabric, well known in the realm of dry goods, and its color is such a felicitous aver- ige of the be-sullying contingencies of real life, that it icver shows dirt, even when threadbare. Excellent solu- tion of a mighty problem ! Long may it remain untainted >y innovating zeal, and may the bell-buttoned brevity of the cadet's coat-tail never cast shorter shadows! The calculus of variations has of late been freely applied to the army uniform, Proteus acting as tailor-general. Hence we say, with feeling and emphasis, " Esto perpetua !" of cadet grey, bell-shaped buttons, black cord, white drill- ing, and all. But, alas ! for head-gear, if genius has no better inspiration in reserve ! For full-dress, the cadet Qrst wore a cumbrous scale-decked, bell-crowned hat ; then the leathern-top, fire-bucket hat, with woollen pompon. For undress, the two-lobcd, leathern-bellows cap pre- vailed ; then the leathern-top cap, with the duck-bill visor; and then the present chasseur cap of cloth. THE ENCAMPMENT. Between the 20th and 25th of June comes the annual marching into camp, this being pitched on the north-eastern portion of the plain. The examination being ended, the First Class having graduated, the old Third Class having gone on furlough, and all the classes having been duly promoted, then comes the flitting. Orders are published at parade to pitch the tents, and march into camp at a stated hour, vacating all the bar- rack-rooms, which orders provoke such a stampede of tables, buckets, chairs, trunks, mattresses, etc., to the 112 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. now vacant recitation-rooms, that a first of May in Gotham is comparatively tame. In Congressional phrase, the " wasp-waisted vampires " in committee of caryatides, crown their heads with tables, and, sighing for unattain- able wheelbarrows, work on with such vigor, that in two or three hours the barracks contain only iron bedsteads, and accoutrements hanging on the gun-racks. Before breakfast, the camp-ground is laid out, and the tents erected by the quickest diligence of their future occu- pants. At the indicated hour, the signal sounds, the companies are formed and marched into the parade- ground, when the battalion, with the band playing, and colors unfurled, marches to its new home. The encamp- ment consists of eight rows of tents, two to each com- pany, opening on four streets, or company grounds ; and a broad avenue runs down the centre of the camp. The tents of the Company Officers, and of the Instructors of Tactics, are pitched opposite their respective companies, and the Commandant's marquee is placed at the foot of the broad avenue. The guard- tents, six in number, are at the opposite end of the camp. A chain of six sentinels surrounds the camp-ground, day and night. The guard consists of three reliefs, which walk post in turn, through the twenty-four hours, for which each guard is detailed. This detail is drawn as equitably as possible from the four companies, and guard duty recurs once in from two to four days, making it really quite hard work for those not inured to it. That direful sound of the Corporal, pound- ing on the tent-floors with the butt of his musket, and bawling " Turn out! Second relief !" tears most frightful WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. rents in the blessed garment of sleep, which settles down so gently on the poor, weary Plebe, while he dreams of home and mother. On waking to the hard reality, he rubs his eyes, snatches his musket, adjusts his cartridge- box, and quickly takes his place among the six martyrs. When the relief is duly marshalled, it is marched by the Corporal around the line of posts, each sentinel challeng- ing the long-looked for delegation with a fierce " Who comes there ?" as though he thought them horse-marines at least. The Corporal responds, "Relief! 77 Once more the martial sentinel cries, "Halt, relief! Advance Cor- poral with the countersign !" which cabalistic word being demanded, the Corporal advances, and whispers it over the sentinel's bayonet-point ; whereupon he so rises in the sentinel's estimation, that the latter quickly yields his post, and falls in at the rear of the relief. This round completed, the six patriots seek the solace of the tent- floor, stoutly hoping that the officer-in-charge will keep his distance, and not require a turn-out of the guard for moonlight inspection. Walking post promotes medita- tion. To pace " Xo. 5 " on a bright moonlight night, when shadows mottle the distant mountain slopes, and seem to sleep under the crumbling ruins of old Fort Clinton, when steamboats are rippling the glowing waters of the placid Hudson below, and locomotives arc dashing wildly along the railroad across the river, when the white tents glow softly, and the quiet stars shine tremblingly ; there is in all this enough to stir up what- ever tender memories, high purposes, ambitious longings, and refined sensibilities may dwell in the sentinel's 114 WEST POINT SCHAP-BOOK. deepest nature. Or when a sultry day has rounded to a close, and the storm-spirit' has piled up his black cloud fleeces in the highland gorge, and on the crest of Cro' Nest, when the rush of battle comes, and the glowing lightning fitfully reveals the snowy tents, wildly flapping in tho rushing blast, as if terror-stricken at the deep roll- ing thunders, and the quick alternations of vivid light and solid darkness ; scarce can the soul of the sentry be so dead as not then to be moved and awed before sub- limity so transcendent. To be roused by such storms from sleep under a tent ; to see the very threads of canvas flash into view, when the burning lightnings leap through the air above ; and to fancy the electric arrow speeding to the bayonet points of the muskets standing at his head ; this is among the cadet's magnificent experiences, and quite compensates for a wet blanket, or a deluged locker. THE RETURN TO BARRACKS. * * * About the 28th of August the encampment is wont to be broken up, and the corps return to barracks. An illumination of the camp usually takes place on the evening before it is broken up, and the convolutions of the 11 stag-dance " are exhibited in the parade-ground with a fervor and vivacity outdoing an Indian war-dance. This curious cross between the shuffle and the quadrille is a frequent evening diversion of the Cadet Camp. It is per- formed by twenty or more cadets who gyrate among rows of candles stuck along the ground, cadencing their move- SCRAP-BOOK. ents by the low, inutlled rattle of a drum, presenting a cry pandemonium-like picture. In the olden time the ractice was for the corps to leave West Point during the miner season, and make long marches into the adjoin- g States ; but this usage has long since been relin- quished, .some say to save money, but others declare that the cadets were too prone to make merry and run riot during this periodical enlargement ; perhaps both are right. The scene presented during the striking of tents is quite lively and picturesque. In the early hours of the day all private property of the cadets (their blankets, clothing, etc.) is carried by them to the rooms assigned them in the barracks, leaving in camp only their muskets an< I full dress. At the fixed hour "the general beats," and all fly to their tents, awaiting three taps on the large drum. At the first tap, all except the corner tent-cords are cast loose, and the pegs withdrawn ; at the second, the corner-cords and pegs are loosed, and the tent gathered m to the tent-poles, which are hoisted out and so steadied, that at the third tap, all the tents instantly go down in concert; imd woe to any " unlucky Joe " who fails to complete the prostration at the moment. The lents arc folded and piled; the companies are formed, and. taking their stacked arms, are marched to the parade ; the Commandant then marches the battalion back to the barracks, and the encampment is no more. 116 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. SCRAP FROM THE SECTION-ROOM. Looking back among the section-room recollections, we are fain to smile when we remember that' day when " Smithers," who wasn't heavy in Law, was asked " when the writ of ' habeas corpus ' was suspended in action ? " and replied, convulsing the crowd, that "it was when the man was dead ! ! RETURN OF THE FURLOUGH CLASS OF 1850. There's a stir in " Camp Gaines ;" all observers may see 'Tis a moment of interest, a moment of glee, Each cadet is awake, every tent is unmanned, They pace to and fro, or they anxiously stand. Some object thrice welcome they seem to await, As all eyes turned eagerly to the " South Gate." The forbidden " South Gate," where cadets are denied The privilege of exit, when on the inside ; In flaming black characters, always are seen, The words " Shut the gate !" but none to " come in." On the other, in ghastly white letters appear The four horrid syllables " No smoking here !" Oh ! answer, ye classes ! What may ye await ? "What pleasure approaches thro' the " South Gate ?" The " Furloughs " are coming, and now must be near, There is dust, there is shouting, the " Furloughs " are here. They are here ! What a cheer! as their comrades they hail; At the sight, what delight, and affection prevail. How rush they ! how yell they ! with arms intertwined, To be pressed to each breast, that breast true and kind, To be greeted by comrades, escorted in state, Then haste ye' and gaze toward the distant " South Gate." WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 117 Te true men, alas ! Ye are " Furloughs " no more, "\Vhcn that portal admits, but opes not to the corps, And who deem this the happiest day of their lives; "Alexander," "Wright," "Bonaparte," " Musical Ives," " Rose," "Casey," "Smith," "Sheridan," " Morgan," "VanVoast," Each now Second-class men, all hail to your post ! May your duties be followed with ardor as great, As you felt when so gaily you passed the " South Gate." We welcome you back to the camp, and the plain, Where your favorite " Glitz" will drill you again; Oh ! blessed among students, you now may renounce All fears of being wasted by much "cherry bounce," Cigars, late hours, or unwholesome rich food, While your minds shall with flesh be daily imbued; May you ever be happy, at each turn of fate, As when you "blithe Furloughmen" passed the "South Gate." MY FIRST NIGHT ON POST. y "Regular." Tt was in the summer of 1850 that I entered " Camp Gaines " with the Battalion of Cadets. Many, to whom this kind of life was new, will remember how disagree- able were the first two weeks of our encampment, when the rain fell almost incessantly, rendering guard-duty unusually fatiguing, while the had weather allowed tl, off guard an immunity from the minor duties of the camp. The " Plebes " having been in the battalion but a lew days, were not well enough disciplined to be detailed for guard, so that the burden of it fell upon the First and Third ela-ses ; no wonder, then, that every expedient was 118 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. used to avoid it. I was a " Plebe " then, and having exhibited a tolerable degree of proficiency in the " Manual/ 1 ' one of the First-class men, now an artillery officer , obtained permission for me to walk in his place. One beautiful morning, after donning my patron's uniform, which fitted me more like a bag than a tight well-made suit, I took my place in " C " Company's detail, and with a boyish feeling of pride, at being the first plebe on guard, swelling THE ENCAMPMENT in iny bosom, was marched to the parade ground where the guard was forming. After the guard was brought to a "rear-open-order," the Adjutant commenced his inspec- tion. By the time he came to me I was exceedingly ner- vous, for all sorts of strange stories about severity exer- cised towards new cadets, were making me curse memory for bringing them up at such a time, to arouse unneces- sary fears about my dress and accoutrements not being in the most perfect order. But after inspecting my gun, and WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. finding it bright and clean, lie cast a glance at the uni- form I wore, and pushing my chin-strap down lower, said kindly, "Very well r sir," and passed on without a word of censure. Then after the band had ''beaten oil'," *e were inarched in review before the eyes of the fair ones, who were thronging around the guard tents. I will pass over the occurrences of the day, and come at once to the evening's u entertainment,' 7 as my comrades call it. : It was nearly eleven o'clock at night when I found myself walking up and down a little patch near the tents, better known as tl No. 6." I had been walking during the day, and, wearied with the heat, I almost welcomed a heavy shower of rain which soon drove me to seek shelter in the " sentry-box,*' whence I could c.itch glimpses of the scenery, as the fre- (ju-nt flashes of lightning played 'over it. It was a bad night for a " green hand " to be on guard, for the war of the storm and the worse than total darkness made it almost impossible to detect the approach of any one who might feel disposed to ll devil me." Whenever a transient (lash lit up the camp with spec- tral light ; I would throw a hurried glance around me. and then draw my cape over my face to keep out the rain, whirl i beat full in my retreat. During a momentary lull of the storm, footsteps were heard approaching my post, from the camp. I challenged, "Who goes there V " \o answer, but before I could call out again, a huire tjnt- peg came rattling into the sentry-box. I rushed out, disliking sueh tar^et-praetiee. and. running up the path, icceeded in stopping one of the jokers just as he was succeeded 120 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. crossing it ; but instead of retreating, he began to expos- tulate with me, and wound up a lengthy harangue on the impropriety of " Plebes " interfering with "old cadets/ 7 by attempting to seize my gun. I called out, 1 1 Corporal of the Guard, No. 6!" and I could hear the words run from post to post as the sentinels caught the cry. But it was of no use, for my opponent yelled, " Never mind the Corporal ! " and this, the blockheads' on the intermediate posts repeated as lustily as the other. Succeeding in getting away from my opponent, I was backing off to give him the benefit of the cold steel, when I suddenly fell backward into a wheelbarrow, which a jovial Third-class- man pushed against me, and after running a rod or two with me, he gave it a jerk, tumbling wheelbarrow, musket, and myself into the mud together. That wheelbarrow played a conspicuous part in that night's amusement, for every few minutes it would 'come rattling down the path towards me, in a very supernatural manner, apparently without the aid of human hands. Here was a fix ! Full a dozen men, regardless of the weather, were practically " devilling " me. The rain seemed to pour, more than anything else, and my white pants clung damply, but affectionately, to my limbs. The Corporal of the Guard was perfectly oblivious of my situation ; and above all, there was an absolute necessity for endurance until the relief should come. I entreated the jokers, in the name of humanity, to let me alone, and clear out. To add to my discomfiture, the occupants of a neighboring tent, aroused by the noise, raised their tent-walls, and lighting their pipes, coolly WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 121 njoyed the fun, occasionally throwing out a hint when- ever the game seemed to lag. One moment my torment- ors would assemble in a body, and marching up under the I command of a " six-footer/ 7 would answer my challenge as a " body of armed men." Then, they would pretend to be the relief, and march- ing up in perfect order, would be quite astonished (?) when I charged them with the bayonet. As I was con- tending with two cadets, who wished, as they said, to carry a sick tent-mate across my post to the hospital, the sick man showed surprising agility in attempting to lasso me with a tent-cord. At last, one by one, they dropped off to their warm beds, and left me perambulating in the mud, all the time suspecting this to be a new ruse, in order to play a new trick. As if to confirm my suspicions, a tall fellow came suddenly upon my post;, as I was entering the sentry-box ; I lowered my bayonet, and was about to run him through, when his cool " steady ! " caused me to re- cognize in him the officer of the day. After giving the countersign, he asked me my orders, and then praising me for being so vigilant, passed on, leaving me once more alone with the storm. Before long, the relief came around, and, posting another man in my place, took me to the guard-tents for a little rest. A little after three o'clock in the morning, the loud "Turn out ! second relief! " aroused me from the blank in which it seemed I had scarcely slept a moment. AVith a sickening, overpowering sense of fatigue and exhaustion, I "fell in" with the rest, and passed around ciunp until I reached my post, where I was to walk two 122 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. hours more in the mud. Oh ! how slowly, time dragged away ! It seemed as if morning would never come ! More than once I was asleep while walking, and would bring up suddenly against a tree or sentry-box. I remember one time I was awakened by feeling on my face the wet can- vas of a tent which I had run against during my sleep, although several yards from my post. It had ceased raining by this time, and heavy clouds were passing swiftly over head, while between them the rich moonlight poured down upon the white tents, the ruined breast-works of Fort Clinton, and the silvery Hud- son, seen between the waving cypress trees. The hills forming the eastern bank stretched away to the south, in a kind of silvery haze, darkened in places by low, black clouds, whose bases seemed to touch the river, and mingle with the rippling waves. Soon the grey light of morning spread over the horizon, and when the sun rose, the morning quite welcomed it, and as the smoke rolled slowly leeward, reveille rang out on the fresh air in sweet harmony with the beauty of the glorious scene, which recompensed me for the troubles of " my first night on post." THE OLD ACADEMY. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 123 THE RETURNED FURLOUGHMAN. iwake, until midnight the " Furloughman " lay, While the "blues" in a host, beset his sad mind ; And thoughts, busy thoughts from West Point flew away To the home of the loved ones, he'd left far behind. He thought of the many sweet joys he had tasted, In the short summer months he had spent at his home, "While memory blamed him for moments then wasted, Till fast to his eyelids the scalding tears came. "Weary nature at length yields herself to the sway Of sweet sleep, and his cares are at last left behind, As watch-worn and weary his grief fades away, And visions of happiness dance o'er his mind. He dreams that from studies and troubles away, Again he hath gleefully started to roam, While the bright sun of June warms his path with its ray, And the voices of loved ones now welcome him home. He hastens with rapture, to reach the bright spot, Where often in life's sunny morn he hath^ported; His eyes beam still brighter, beholding the cot Of the maiden he truly and fondly hath courted. Ho inwardly vows that he will never return To West Point, that region of trouble and sorrow, Where the " midnight oil" doth so frequently burn, While "boning" the tasks that are set for the morrow. He quickens his pace, as he nears the abode Of the being who to his foiid heart is so dear; He bounds o'er the lawn, ho so often hath trod, When the pale silver moon in summer shone clear. 124 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. He approaclieth the threshold, and raiseth his hand, A tap at the door, he gently hath given; Oh ! what is that sound, booming deep o'er the land, And loudly re-echoing back from the Heavens ! 'Tis the reveille gun ! see, his sweet dreams have fled, And duty, stern duty, now calls him away, Saying: " Up, thou dull sleeper, and make up thy bed, " And prepare for the arduous toils of the day ! " Oh ! Furloughman, where are thy dreams of delight ? The places the loved ones that thou wert so near? "Where now are the scenes that gladdened thy sight ? Oh ! where is the voice thou wert listening to hear ? Alas ! they are there in that far Southern clime, "Where thou wert on furlough so happy and free; But, oh, look ahead, there will yet come a time, When again the home of thy childhood thoul't see. A PAKODY ON HOHENLINDEN. At W 7 est Point, when the sun was low, All spotless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Hudson rolling rapidly. But West Point saw another sight, Loud groans were heard at dead of night, And " Plebeians " howled with wild affright, Whilst dreaming of Geometry. 'Twas morn, but on that luckless day The morning brought no cheering ray To pierce the mists of Algebra, Or clear it of perplexity. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 125 In glittering armor, bright arrayed, Each teacher drew liis battle blade, And furious each Plebeian made, To witness such pomposity. Then shook the hills with thunder riven, As each " Plebe " to the black-board driven, Despairing of all hopes of Heaven, In view of his deficiency. And fainter still his hopes shall grow, When he receives a " cold zero," His throbbing bosom rent with woe, Big tears come rolling rapidly. The section falters ! on ! ye brave ! "Who rush to glory or the grave. Wave ! Plebeians ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with thy Geography. The lesson's o'er the hovering cloud Has burst in torrents, wild and loud, And buried in one common shroud, The essence of stupidity. Many shall part, no more to meet, For " Math " has been their winding sheet, And every " hash " they now shall eat, Brings curses to their memory. AN OLD CADET'S ADVICE. Come, fellows, and list to instruction, Which hereafter may answer you well ; Perhaps it may stay your destruction By the dangerous arts of a belle. 126 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. > The ladies Heaven bless their fair faces I Come here in summer time sweet, Each one is loaded with graces, And all have cadets at their feet. They smile on the gallant young " grey," Accept all of his offers to walk, And he, not knowing what to say, Allows her to sustain all the talk. Then it's " Oh ! I so love the Army, With it's bugles, and drums beating loud, And if one should ever ask for me, As an officer's wife I'd be proud." " I should like to partake of his honor, For ever stay close by his knees, And read him nice stories from ' Bonner,' When he might lay sick with disease. I should so love a life on the prairie, If my husband should ever there go, And would never complain to him nary That such life was uncommonly slow." " If we ever should become adjusted, At a station where parties are rife, I should never appear much disgusted, Should he ask for a dance with his wife. I would never once flirt with another, Not once cause my husband to swear, I would never once write to my mother, That he was a brute, and a bear. " But, alas ! there's no officer sought me, I fear that I never shall wed; For rather than have citizens 'round me, I declare I would die an old maid." WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. The cadet feels silent and moody, His heart it is thumping with pain, He thinks of the three years of study. Before his commission he'll gain. He thinks with despair of his fate, His youth appears saddened and drear; To ask such an angel to wait, Fills his bosom with doubt and with fear. She starts, and with tears in her eyes, ^Vhich causes his fond heart to ache, She asks for a " button," and sighs, " I'd prize it so much for your sake." With a sob like a twenty-four pounder, He tears one from over his heart, And gives it with bows much profounder Than a dancer could ever impart. In fact, the poor fellow is captured, His sleep is oft broken and short, He dreams himself wholly enraptured, "While the lady is only in sport. "With others he's very retired, But his love remains constant and true, And he goes to bed pretty well tired, "When his drills, and hers, are all through. One evening, the moon shining brightly, He calls on her at the hotel; And then with his heart beating lightly, Commences his story to telL He tells her he knew but to love her, And has dreamt of her often of late; Perhaps she will say he may have her, As he has only thw yarn to wait. 127 128 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. She hears him a moment, through pity, And then hopes his heart he will mend; She's engaged to a man in the city, But she'll always remember her friend. He leaves her with feelings of sorrow, At being so foully deceived, But he goes to the drill on the morrow, With his feelings greatly relieved. He takes no more walks on " Flirtation," His slumbers are broken no more, He has found a divine consolation, And is now a most staunch " Bachelor." FURLOUGH SONG OF 1859. Oh ! Furlough men have gone before, For half a century or more, But never went a class so fine, As that which goes in '59. Oh ! gay and bright, the sunbeams dance Upon the vine-clad hills of France. "Where blushing maidens make the wine For Furlough men of '59. Oh ! bright are stars, and midnight skies, But brighter far are women's eyes, And brighter, softer, yet they shine On Furlough men of '59. A large moustache we each will raise, WV11 strike the " Cumes " with amaze, They'll rub their beardless chins, you know, And wonder why their hairs don't grow. '-BOOK. 129 At home, we'll never think at all, Of " reveille " or " Surgeon's call;" At nine or ten o'clock about, AVc'll call the boy to " pull us out." We'll tell the " cits." some famous lies, And make them stare in mute surprise; If they our words in question call, AVe'll swallow them, hot*, boots, and all. Some winter's night, when wars the gale, Shall children list their grandsire's tale, And hear amazed, the deeds in fine, Performed by us in '59. A CITIZEN'S IDEA OF D.KESS PARADE. Vrhaps the most pleasing sight at the "Point," is the evening dress parade. It is five o'clock, and the sun is gently sinking behind the blue Highlands, when the drums at the barracks commence their evening call. Xow from the sally-port, cadets attired in full military panoply saunter forth, and lounge in the vicinity of their respective companies ; now the drums 11am once more, and almost coineidently a long row of " grey-coats " stand latues still and motionless at "carry arms." The spruce orderly calls the roll. Each man as he answers ''Here," comes to an " order." They are then formed in two ranks, and wait for the band to play them to the parade. The band now, in obedience to the wave of the baton of the Drum-Major, beats the 'Adjutant's 'all; "and that functionary, attended by his "markers," 130 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOJt and the Sergeant-Major, marches out to make the align- ment. Now the captains assume the command ; and while from the band there comes a gush of music, the four companies march to their destination. Each company in its turn is aligned by its captain ; and the whole line is dressed by the Adjutant. They thon come with a crash to an " order ; ;; and the band, after three preliminary THE PARADE. strains, " beats off" down the front behind a gaudily dressed gentleman with a muff on his head, and a red pudding-bag hanging out of the top of it. In his hand he carries a tasselled cane of a large size, which he wields as easily as a child would a straw. On arriving at the end of his journey he turns about, and boring a hole in the centre of the band with his magical baton, he disap- pears from view in the bowels thereof. Soon he emerges, WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. red and pompous as ever ; and the band, by some mys- sterious movement known only to itself, apparently mix up in inextricable confusion in endeavoring to follow their leader. But now they come in as regular order as before, and march back to their starting point. Arriving there, they play a psalni tune, then give three strains more, and at the final one the evening gun is fired, the Stars and Stripes flutter to the ground, and the cadets are called to " attention " by the Adjutant. The battalion is now brought to a "rear open order % ; " the Adjutant walks stiffly down the front, files to the right in a manner shock- ingly abrupt, faces to the battalion, and sings out "Sent harms ! " An instantaneous clash, and every cadet private regards with speculative eyes his polished gun- barrel. The Adjutant then faces about, and tells the " Officer in Charge " that the battalion is now at his service. This dignitary waves his hand ; and, as he draws forth his trusty blade, the Adjutant, marches to the left and rear of him. The " Officer in Charge " now braces his sword close to his shoulder, grinds his heels together, and vociferates "Crec hump!" and the cadets one more " carry arms" ""with automaton-like precision. The officer again yells "charge peanuts!" and every private faces half to the right, and repels an imaginary foe, " Cree hump!'' and they resume their former position ; " Der hump! " and they come to an "ord C3 " Officer in Charge " sheathes his sword, the erlies report, and the Adjutant reads the orders I/"/////' 'Gbdmy, 'S Point, 'en York. >/'/// nth, ''unl 6vVy-Fn.fi; .' ' SJtal 'lordcr* Dumber T\VO!!!" 132 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. etc. Finally the cadet officers march in a line to the " Officer in Charge," shake their fists in his face, and cut away with great precipitation, on his retaliating in a like manner. The companies, who thus far have been regarding the above proceedings with stolid indifference, now "carry arms," and are marched off at "double time" by the orderly sergeants, the band disappears over the hill, and the spectators withdraw, no doubt highly edified with what they have seen, but especially with what they have heard. THE ABMY BLUE. (Old Version.) A few days more, a few days more To toilsome study given, A few days more we'll reach that shore For which we long have striven. "With pipe and song, we'll jog along, Till these few days are through, And all among our jovial throng Have donned the Army Blue. A few days more, a few days more To " bone," parade, and drill, And then we'll go our winding way, Our duties to fulfil. When " Mordecai" we've laid on high, "Wayland," " Mahan," "Theroux," We'll turn our eyes to brighter skies, And don the Army Blue. WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. A fc\v days more, a few days more, And Jordan will be passed, We'll get o'er on another shore, By striving hard and fast. Then leaving here without a fear Arising to our view, give a cheer ! 'twere good to hear! And don the Army Blue. REVEILLE. Hark ! the morning gun is sounding Faintly on the drowsy ear, O'er the plain the noise is bounding, Reveille is drawing near. Drum and fife awake the echoes, Sounding far o'er hill and lea, Nearer yet, and louder growing, Awake! arise! 'Tis Reveille ! 'Tis the hour of peaceful slumber, Ere the morning sunlight beams, of brightness, forms of beauty Float through all the sleeper's dreams. 'Tis the hour when happy visions Bring the days of Furlough near, Voice of home, and friends seem calling In melodious tones and clear. " Don't you stop to dream of Furlough ! Tumble out on hand and knee ! Kick your bedding ! seize your clothing ! Rise ! and run ! 'Tis Reveille ! 134 WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. Don't stop to wash ! Don't stop to button ! Do not swear or curse your fate ! Put it ! leg it ! dust it ! streak it ! Leave your shirt, or get a ' late ' ! " Jumping, rushing down the stairway, Tumbling headlong, down you go ! Rapidly the ranks are forming In the area far below. See your comrades far before you, Through the entry door- way squeeze ; Heavens and earth ! the drums are stopping, Now the dying echoes cease. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE RIDING HALL. " If ye have tears, prepare to shed them now." The greater part of last year, while my class were learn- ing to ride, I was confined to the hospital by sickness, and accordingly deprived of the advantages they were enjoy- ing. Still, having been occasionally on horseback, I thought I should escape making any remarkable display of defi- ciency in that branch of our profession. When I commenced riding at West Point, it was a very different matter from what goes by the same name else- where. Without stirrups, without often even a saddle, we were mounted on ungainly brutes, and trotted around until life was nearly extinct. W^hen I came back from tl Furlough,", my class had ridden nearly a year, while I had ridden only a week or two. Nothing daunted, however, and trusting WEST POINT SCRAP-BOOK. 135 to fortune and my own powers, I buckled on a pair of rusty spurs, found myself securely fastened to an enor- mous sabre, with an iron scabbard, and sallied forth. Dragoon brought me in a raw-boned, vicious-looking animal, which, after some preliminary difficulties, I suc- ceeded in mounting. " Trot! " Horse started ; so did I, half off my saddle. ' I had never been taught to keep my heels " well out;" accordingly my spurs "went in ; r horse VIE\V FROM BATTERY KNOX. went in, too! Peculiar motion! Began to suspect I was losing my balance : sabre flew out, and hit the horse on the head ; in plunged my spurs deep among his ribs ; another jump ; sabre flew back and hit him on the flank ; spurs worked convulsively among his bones ; jump ! thump ! spur.! horse reared; seized his mane ! Horse ivaiv