Then you'll think of Flirtation and old Gee's rock,
And the place where you sat with your Sweet Four O'clock;
Then you'll think of the taffy made over the gas,
Of the butter and sugar you hived from the mess.
Now when to the blackboard for trial you stand,
Keep steady, be ready, your chalk in your hand.
Don't think of failing; stand well on your ground;
Don't let it be said—a man has been found.
This poem is respectfully dedicated to the Corps of Cadets, by
Their Maternal Friend.
THE BARRACKS.
(Photographed by G. W. Pack.)