The following extract from one of the letters of a Harvard undergraduate in the First Regiment Volunteer Cavalry, now at San Antonio, should be of interest to Harvard men in Cambridge. The CRIMSON takes great pleasure in being able to publish it:
"Every morning now we have mounted regimental drill. Six hundred horses galloping in column of fours is a fine wave of power. The dust lifts up so thick it is like a fog, and you can barely see the next man ahead. Half-blinded, wet with sweat, and the horses on both sides rubbing against your legs, you go tearing, galloping on. Then suddenly through the white wall of dust you see the haunches of the horses ahead sink down and a hand shoot upward with the fingers spread apart. There is a quick jam, a creaking and rubbing of leather, and they're off again.
"One of the men died, taps were sounded over his coffin, slowly, very slowly, while the regiment stood in line."