ABSTRACT
From the deck of the little ferryboat that steamed its way across from Garrison’s on that eventful afternoon I viewed the hills about West Point, her stone structures perched thereon, thus rising still higher, as if providing access to the very pinnacle of fame, and shuddered. With my mind full of the horrors of the treatment of all former cadets of color, and the dread of inevitable ostracism, I approached tremblingly yet confidently. The little vessel having been moored, I stepped ashore and inquired of a soldier there where candidates should report…. The impression made upon me by what I saw while going from the adjutant’s office to barracks was certainly not very encouraging. The rear windows were crowded with cadets watching my unpretending passage of the area of barracks with apparently as much astonishment and interest as they would, perhaps, have watched Hannibal crossing the Alps. Their words, jeers, etc., were most insulting. 1
