Registration for the draft in accordance with President Roosevelt's recent proclamation brought 400 members of the University and 900 others to the desks at Memorial Hall yesterday and Sunday.

Not a single person of the 1,300-odd who signed their way into the government's files indicated his status as that of a conscientious objector. Registration officials pointed to this phenomenon as a sign of the change of spirit taking place all over the country.

The serious business of signing for military service had its lighter moments, however. At the upper end of the 20 to 44 age bracket was one gentleman who reported late at Memorial Hall, excusing himself on the grounds that he had already signed once in 1917 and had only come to the 1942 registration at the insistence of his wife.

Fortified for Occasion

Many individuals, perhaps viewing with alarm the prospect of several barren years in the service, fortified themselves well for the strenuous ordeal at Mem Hall; three especially inebriated registrants forgot their names when called upon to sign, and were sent home to recover their memories with the warning to make the process as short as possible.

Indicating that the cases above mentioned and a few others were the exception rather than the rule, the volunteer officials who did the real dirty work yesterday and Sunday said the average registrant was eager to do his bit to lighten the burden of enrolling 7,000,000 men on the government's books.

As an instance of patriotism carried too far, one enrollee, rejected because of flat feet, offered to bring before the board two dead Japs if they would accept him.