Afterwards they had a confused recollection of having been marched to the tailor at the storekeeper's, where they were measured for uniforms, all of which are made to order.

They recalled receiving a thin, blue volume entitled "Regulations of the U.S.
Naval Academy," a book which they were advised by a first clansman instructor to "commit to memory." "In former days, in the old-time academy, there were something more than six hundred regulations," dryly remarked the cadet petty officer in charge of them.

"In the new up-to-date Naval Academy there are now more than one thousand regulations.

You are all expected to appreciate this merciful decrease in the number of things you are required to remember." There were also two periods of drill, that afternoon, and what-not more.
Supper came as a merciful release.

When the meal was over, while many of the upper class men remained outside in the warm June air, the plebes were ordered to go to their rooms and start in making themselves familiar with the thousand-and-more regulations.
"Thank goodness they give us some time for light reading," muttered Dan Dalzell, as he stalked into his room, hung up his uniform cap and sank into a chair.