On a fine bright morning about the middle of June, every year, the Corps of Cadets wakes up to find that Battle Monument and vicinity have been completely transformed. The Quartermaster’s men have canopied a portion of the monument’s platform with beautiful brand-new flags, and placed under them comfortable wicker chairs for the President, the Secretary of War, the various generals, and other dignitaries who usually honor West Point with their presence on this graduation day. On the front edge of the platform is a rostrum, flag bedecked, for the speaker of the occasion, and spread over the green lawn are rows and rows of seats that await the coming of the cadets. Promptly at ten o’clock, the Corps swings across the parade ground to take its place for the final ceremonies that mark the separation of another class from its midst.

This is the day of days in the life of each man of the graduation class. His four years are at last completed and he is about to be given the great 301 prize for which he has so ardently striven—a commission in the Army. As he takes his seat in front of the platform, he is a little nervous in spite of the joy at having achieved his ambition. He realizes that he is about to sever the ties that have held him fast for the last four years and to bid farewell to a portion of his life that is finished. A little tug comes at his heart-strings but it quickly vanishes as he listens to the eloquent words of the chief speaker, oftentimes the President, unfolding to his receptive imagination the duties and honors that await him in his new life as an officer. And when the President reminds him of West Point, of her traditions, of the advantages that he has been lovingly given, and of what is expected of him in the Army, there comes to his eyes a moisture from pride and gratitude. Into his mind rapidly crowd a thousand and one recollections of his associations at the Academy. He knows now that he must leave the Corps behind, that he must renounce the delightful camaraderie of its members, and give up the beautiful surroundings wherein he has grown in body, mind, and soul.

It is true that he can no longer wear the “gray,” or take away with him his friends, or the buildings, but he does take away with him something that is finer than all of these. One can see it in his face and in his bearing. He goes forth, his heart armed with the triple brass of Duty, Honor, Country, and his soul filled with the Spirit of West Point. All of his nature has been elevated 302 and benefited by this indefinable essence. It forever connects him with hundreds of other men in all parts of our country and identifies him with an institution whose very name, West Point, no matter where seen or heard, thrills him with pleasure. This name connotes the details of the most impressionable period of his life. Even the words themselves seem to have a distinction and personality that no other words possess. They are flavored wi............