"No, sir, you can't walk on public lands till retreat. Get out of my sight."

"Candidate F----, United States Military Academy, reports his departure from this office, sir."

At five o'clock the next morning two unusual sounds greeted my ears--the reveille, and a voice in the hall below calling out in a loud martial tone:

"Candidates, turn out promptly!" In an astonishingly short time I had dressed, "turned out," and was in ranks. We stood there as motionless as statues till the fifers and drummers had marched up to barracks, the rolls of the companies had been called, and they themselves dismissed. We were then dismissed, our roll having been also called. We withdrew at a run to our quarters and got them ready for inspection, which, we were informed, would take place at the expiration of half an hour. At the end of this time our quarters were inspected by a corporal. In my own room he upset my bedding, kicked my shoes into the middle of the room, and ordered me to arrange them again and in better order. This order was obeyed immediately. And this upsetting was done in every room, as I learned afterward from the occupants, who, strange to say, manifested no prejudice then. 'Twas not long ere they learned that they were prejudiced, and that they abhorred even the sight of a "d--d n.i.g.g.e.r."

Just before, or perhaps just after breakfast, our quarters were again inspected. This time I was somewhat surprised to hear the corporal say, "Very well, Mr. Flipper, very well, sir."

And this with other things shows there was a friendly feeling toward me from the first. After having thus expressed himself, he directed me to print my name on each of four pieces of paper, and to tack them up in certain places in the room, which he indicated to me.

I did this several times before I could please him; but at last succeeded. Another corporal visited me during the day and declared everything out of order, although I had not touched a single thing after once satisfying the first corporal. Of course I had to rearrange them to suit him, in which I also finally succeeded.

At eleven o'clock the mail came. I received a letter, and to my astonishment its postmark was "West Point, N. Y., May 21st." Of course I was at a loss to know who the writer was. I turned it over and over, looked at it, studied the postmark, finally opened it and read it.*

*This letter by some means has been misplaced, and all efforts to find it, or to discover what its exact contents were, have failed. However, it was from James Webster Smith, the first and then only cadet of color at West Point. It rea.s.sured me very much, telling me not to fear either blows or insults, and advising me to avoid any forward conduct if I wished also to avoid certain consequences, "which,"

said the writer, "I have learned from sad experience,"

would be otherwise inevitable. It was a sad letter.

I don't think any thing has so affected me or so influenced my conduct at West Point as its melancholy tone. That "sad experience" gave me a world of warning.

I looked upon it as implying the confession of some great error made by him at some previous time, and of its sadder consequences.

This was another surprise--a welcome surprise, however. I read it over several times. It showed me plainly that Smith had not been dismissed, as had been reported to me at home. I at once formed a better opinion of West Point than I before had, and from that day my fears gradually wore away.

The candidates now reported rapidly, and we, who had reported the day previous, were comparatively undisturbed. At four o'clock I visited Smith at his quarters by permission. My visit was necessarily a short one, as he was then preparing for drill. It sufficed, however, for us to become acquainted, and for me to receive some valuable advice. An hour and place were designated for us to meet next day, and I took my leave of him. The "plebes" turned out en ma.s.se, walked around the grounds and witnessed the drilling of the battalion. We enjoyed it immensely.

They were that day skirmishing and using blank cartridges. We thought the drill superb. I was asked by a fellow-"plebe," "Think you'll like that?"

"Oh yes," said I, "when I can do it as easily as they do."

We had quite a lengthy conversation about the fine appearance of the cadets, their forms, so straight and manly, evoking our greatest admiration. This, alas! was our only conversation on any subject. The gentleman discovered ere long that he too was prejudiced, and thus one by one they "cut" me, whether for prudential reasons or not I can not presume to say.

I went into the office one day, and standing uncovered at about the middle of the room, in the position of the soldier, saluted and thus addressed a cadet officer present:

"Candidate Flipper, United States Military Academy, reports his entrance into this office, sir."

"Well, what do you want?" was the rather gruff reply.

"I desire permission to visit Smith, sir," answered I, thoughtlessly saying "Smith," instead of "Mr" or "Cadet Smith."

He instantly sprang from his seat into rather close proximity to my person and angrily yelled:

"Well, sir, I want to hear you say 'Mr. Smith.' I want you to understand, sir, he is a cadet and you're a 'plebe,' and I don't want to see such familiarity on your part again, sir," putting particular emphasis on "Mr."

Having thus delivered himself he resumed his seat, leaving me, I imagine, more scared than otherwise.

"What do you want?" asked he again, after a pause of a moment or so.

"Permission to visit Mr. Smith."

Without condescending to notice for the time my request he gave the interview a rather ludicrous turn, I thought, by questioning me somewhat after this manner:

"Can you dance, Mr. Flipper?"

Having answered this to his entire satisfaction, he further asked:

"Expect to attend the hops this summer?"

"Oh no, sir," replied I, smiling, as he also was, for I had just discovered the drift of his questions.

After mischievously studying my countenance for a moment, he returned to the original subject and queried, "Where do you want to go?"

I told him.

"Well, get out of my sight."

I considered the permission granted, and hastily withdrew to take advantage of it.

Between breakfast and supper those of us who had been there at least a day had quite a pleasant time. We were not troubled with incessant inspections or otherwise. We either studied for examination or walked around the grounds. At or near seven o'clock, the time of retreat parade, we were formed near our barracks and inspected. Our ranks were opened and the cadet lieutenant inspected our clothing and appearance generally. A not infrequent occurrence on these occasions was:

"Well, mister, what did you shave with--a shoehorn?"

At this we would smile, when the lieutenant, sergeant, or corporal would jump at us and yell:

"Wipe that smile off your face, sir! What do you mean, sir, by laughing in ranks?"

If any one attempted to reply he was instantly silenced with--

"Well, sir, don't reply to me in ranks."

The inspection would be continued. Some one, unable to restrain himself--the whole affair was so ridiculous-- would laugh right out in ranks. He was a doomed man.

"What do you mean, sir, by laughing in ranks, sir?"

Having been once directed not to reply in ranks, the poor "plebe" would stand mute.

"Well, sir, don't you intend to answer me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, sir, step it out. What were you grinning at?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Nothing! Well, sir, you're a pretty thing to be grinning at nothing. Get in ranks."

The inspection would, after many such interruptions, be continued. Ranks would at length be closed and the command, "In place, rest!" given. The battalion would march in from parade at double time and form in the area to our rear. The delinquencies of the day previous would then be published by the cadet adjutant.

What most strikes a "plebe" is this same publication.

He hasn't the remotest idea of what it is. Not a word uttered by the adjutant is understood by him. He stands and wonders what it is. A perfect jargon of words, unintelligible and meaningless to him! I remember distinctly how I used to wonder, and how I was laughed at when I asked for information concerning it. We "plebes" used to speak of it often, and wonder if it was not French. When we were better acquainted with the rules and customs of the Academy we learned what it was. It was something of this nature, read from the "Delinquency Book:"

DELINQUENCIES, TUESDAY, OCT. 12.

ADAMS.--Late at reveille roll-call.