around them, awaiting the orders which quickly follow one after the other in rapid succession, now in one part of the ship, now in another, the crew going through the motions of loading and firing the guns, or, with rifle or revolver and cutlass in hand, boarding or repelling an imaginary enemy. All this, however, is to Jack a mere matter of routine duty, drills of one sort or another taking place every day, whenever the state of the weather permits. The call to "general quarters," or to the equally exciting "fire quarters," may be sounded at any moment of the day or even at night, for a man-of-war is always "mobilized," to use a military term, and always kept in a state of efficiency for war even in times of profound peace. A full supply of ammunition is stored in the magazines, the guns, small-arms, and every necessary equipment for fighting purposes are kept ready for use at a moment's notice, so that the ship may be ready to go into action whenever required to do so. Every modern war vessel is essentially a sea-going fighting-machine. The old sailing frigate and the great line of battle ships, with towering masts and enormous squares of canvas, their long rows of guns, tier upon tier, their crews of several hundred men, have disappeared in the mists of the past along with the heroes of Cooper and Marryat. The smallest vessel of our squadron, with her six guns, her powerful engines, and all the appliances of defence and offence, that steam and electricity, in short, that modern science contributes to the safety and efficiency of a ship and a ship's company of the present time, would destroy a whole fleet of "saucy Arethusas."

With the change in the ships, a change in the life and training of the sailor has come, a change so great, that one of Nelson's old sea-dogs, or even a Jackie of our late war, would be dumfounded at the manifold duties required of a modern man-of-war's man. Jack must be a soldier nowadays as well as a seaman. He must understand the intricate mechanism of the revolving cannon, the delicate sights and complicated breech apparatus of the heavy guns with their hydraulic mountings, the manual and care of his magazine rifle and his

self-cocking revolver, as well as how to go aloft in a gale of wind and "pass the weather earring," to pull an oar in a boat, or to knot and splice a rope. In a man-of-war's crew of to-day, many of the men must be specially trained for the peculiar kind of work falling to their share in the general tout-ensemble of modern scientific appliances that are necessary to insure the efficiency of the ship as an instrument of warfare, and to provide for the comfort and welfare of those serving on board of her. example, the Yorktown, which at the time of the writing of this article is probably the most thoroughly equipped with the newest appointments of any of the vessels of our new navy now in commission, comprises in its crew of one hundred and eighty men-exclusive of her line officers, surgeon, engineers. and paymaster-several expert electricians to run the dynamo and keep in order the electric appliances; mahcinists

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one of whom is a boilermaker, and the others qualified for duties connected with the running and repairing of the complicated engines, the distilling of the drinking-water, the heating apparatus, and the many uses that steam may be put to; an apothecary, several so-called yeomen as assistants to the paymaster, engineers, etc.; besides a blacksmith, tailor, painter, carpenters, sailmaker, and others. As already referred to, the comfort and welfare of the crew-which is, so to speak, the life and soul of this floating fighting-machine, the modern man-of-war-must be provided for. Jack is certainly well fed and well clothed, and to the paymaster and his assistants falls the duty of caring for and issuing the various supplies, clothing, etc., which are necessary for his use. Clothing and so-called "small stores" are issued monthly, under the requisitions of the officers of the different divisions into which the ship's company is divided, at rates based on the actual cost price to the government of the articles required, among which may be mentioned underwear, shoes, mattresses, rain - clothes, tobacco, knives, razors and straps, soap, whisk-brooms, forks, spoons, plates-in short a variety of goods and wares such as might go to make up the stock of a regular “country store.'

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," and certainly the majority of the crew of our handsome frigate are anything but dull, on the contrary, it would be difficult to find a more intelligent or "likely" looking set of men; and, although often called upon to do work of the hardest description, Jack has plenty of time to himself, and may pass the hours off watch and when not at drill pretty much as he pleases. The men's dinner is over some half-hour or more

now, and the gun-deck is filled with them from "midships forward to the eyes." Let us stroll up toward the bows and smoke our afternoon cigar among them, and take a look at the life between decks on a fine day at sea.

The ship has a slight heel to port, but the wind is favorable and the big sails are drawing well and serve to steady her, so that she rolls but slightly and with a slow, easy motion. To windward-in the sponson where the Hotchkiss revolver is stationed, and further on, where the brown six-inch rifles thrust their tarpaulin-covered muzzles through the ship's sides--some of the ports are

open and the sunlight streams through them and the fresh sea - air circulates freely. On a locker by the arm rackdrum and bugle hanging from the top, bronzed-barrelled rifles of the marine guard standing in a long straight rowa sailmaker in duck working-suit is sewing away with sailmaker's needle and thimble at some piece of canvas, possibly a hammock for some messmate, while at the open port beyond an apprentice, seated on his ditty box, portfolio on knee and head bent low down over his task, pens a letter to some friend or fond parents in far- distant America. An old fellow with weatherbeaten, wrinkled face and bristling white chin - beard sits beside him, spectacles on nose, and moving his lips as he spells out some story from the well-thumbed pages of the cloth-bound book drawn from the ship's library, in his seamy knotted hands, regardless of the chips and shavings flying about from the car

perhaps, into a neat frame he has been carving. Huddled about on the deck between the guns are groups of the men, playing at games of various sorts, reading, writing, some smoking and "yarning" to one another; a hand sewing-machine is going there, where the ship's tailor crouches, cross-legged, before it, and one old chap has just brought a hot flat iron from the galley stove and is pressing out a pair of well-worn trousers, sucking away meanwhile assiduously at a very short clay pipe; and a gigantic young negro, black as a coal, is deftly weaving a knife lanyard from a mass of white threads secured to the grating covering one of the electric lamps.

White-capped, white-coated cooks are busy about the galleys, peeling potatoes, cutting up meat brought from the refrigerators near by, and preparing generally for the evening meal; and wardroom boys and mess servants-Japan

steward, a piece of old canvas on which a number of rudely drawn squares are painted in black and white between them, are deeply absorbed in a game of checkers. Further forward the barber has a corner for his chair, and is shaving one of the petty officers, gossiping meanwhile, as barbers will do on shipboard as well as on land, with his waiting customers seated or standing around him. Among the great anchor chains some of the sailormen are lying asleep on the hard deck, others are overhauling their ditty boxes, small wooden chests in which Jack keeps his more precious belongings.

At the foot of the ladder by the forward hatch a marine stands on guard, whitegloved and with side-arms, while a corporal moves about fore and aft, ready to check the least infraction of the many disciplinary rules of the ship. Now and then the boatswain's whistle is heard on deck and his rough voice growls out some order, and it is curious to note how everyone suspends his occupation for a moment and turns a listening ear in the direction of the sound, lest the order should perchance have reference to some duty or work every sailor may expect to be called upon to perform at any time. Above the low hum of the voices, the occasional trampling of feet on the deck above, the swish and splash of the waves outside, a constant, never-ending hollow sound seems to fill the atmosphere, and one feels the throb of the great engines, in the depths of the ship away below, moving in a rhythmic, measured beat like the heart of some huge living creature. Let us go down the ladder to the engine room, looking to our footing carefully lest we slip on the greasy steps, and visit the engineer on watch for a minute. Along the narrow passages we

make our way gingerly, we are unaccustomed to the close neighborhood of these enormous masses of metal, moving with admirable precision and regularity, smoothly and with gigantic force. There is not the shred of a uniform about the engineer officer as, clad in overalls and a "jumper," he good-natur