soon alongside the school-ship, where the former explained that he was a
New-Yorker, and was asked to come on board.
Although she had been at anchor only an hour or so, all the running gear
was being neatly stowed away, and the loose ends flemished (_i.e._,
coiled down flat) on the deck. But a word as to the vessel herself:
The _St. Mary's_ was an old United States sloop-of-war, the type of a
vessel, modernized a little, that had won honor and glory for the
country. The _Wasp_ was such a one as this, and every one knows what she
did during the war of 1812. The other craft that stung the English so
badly when commanded by Lawrence, the gallant little _Hornet_, was about
this type--a sloop-of-war--also. Although the _St. Mary's_ was very
peaceful looking, because she lacked the rows of black carronades along
her sides, still it required but little stretching of the imagination to
change her into a man-of-war.
We spoke to a little wiry youngster, who told us he lived in "West
Twenty-thoid" Street, and asked him how he liked being a sailor. The
grin that accompanied his answer--"It's bully good fun"--convinced us
that he, at least, was happy, and had rightly chosen his calling. In
fact, we did not see an unhappy face amongst the crew, and this speaks
volumes.
The _St. Mary's_ had stopped at the Azores, on the voyage out, where the
boys had had fine times, according to account, and where the people had
been looking forward to their coming, for they generally touched there
on their cruises. Of course I had to explain to my English friend that
these boys had nothing to do with the regular navy, but were intended
for the merchant service, unless they wished, of course, to change it
for life on board one of the new cruisers. Every one of them hoped to be
an officer some day, and there is no reason, if they attend to duty, why
this hope should not be fulfilled, for a better training for positions
of command could not be had.
[Illustration: WINTER WORK ON BOARD THE "ST. MARY'S."]
One of the officers told us of a little adventure that had happened upon
one of the former voyages, which not only showed the spirit of the _St.
Mary's_ crew, but also proved that most of the lads had profited by New
York's being surrounded by water. One of the boys, a little fellow, had
fallen off the boat-yard into the water. The tide had swept him quite a
distance from the ship before his cries were heard. When "man
overboard!" was shouted, in half a jiffy a score or more of the crew had
plunged headlong from the railing and bowsprit after him. In fact, it
looked as if the whole ship's company was going for an impromptu swim.
Two of the rescuers laid hold of the drowning boy and kept him afloat,
while the rest paddled about like a flock of ducks. It took some time
for the boat that was hurriedly manned to pick them all up, as the tide
had carried some of them quite a distance out. But they were all taken
aboard safe and sound, and, as everybody writes when telling of a rescue
from "a watery grave," "none the worse for their wetting."
From Southampton the _St. Mary's_ was bound to Cherbourg, France; then
to Lisbon, Portugal; Cadiz, Spain; and Gibraltar.
I could well imagine what fun the boys were going to have at the last
named place, thy strongest fortress of the English, and the "key of the
Mediterranean," as every one says again when speaking of it.
It is from here that the lads always write the longest letters home, for
there is much to tell about; and no matter how many times they visit the
port afterwards, when in command of their own vessels, perhaps, they
will never forget their first sight of the great frowning rock, and
their visit to the hidden guns and casemates. In the harbor they find
all sorts of strange sailing-craft of the Mediterranean, and hear the
jargon of tongues of the multitude of foreign mariners that meet here
from all quarters of the globe.
On the return voyage they stop at the Madeira Islands, and thence,
setting sail, they make for home, arriving in Long Island Sound about,
the last of August. Now, until the middle of October, they spend the
time in practical exercises, cruising to and fro in calmer waters; and
in the middle of October the _St. Mary's_ returns to her dock in the
city.
A leave of two weeks is granted the boys, and it is easy to imagine what
heroes they are to their younger brothers and to their old companions
who have spent the hot summer in the city.
When they return to the ship on the first of November they find the
topmasts housed, the yards taken down, and the deck-house in position
for the winter's term of schooling, which begins at once. During the
cruise at sea the whole time has been taken up with the study of
seamanship and the practice of professional branches of knowledge. They
have learned to tie knots, to hand, reef, and steer, and may be pardoned
a slight roll in their walk and a tendency to indulge in nautical
phraseology.
The boys whose second cruise it has been are found positions on board
the American vessels who receive a subsidy under the postal-subsidy
bill, for all such are required to be officered by Americans, and to
carry a "cadet" for each thousand tons burden. This enables the
graduates of the school to step at once into a paying situation, where
their education will be of great advantage to them. Maybe some of them
make up their minds to go into the navy, or others decide that they are
not cut out for the sea, and take up some life on shore; but no matter
what they do, they cannot but be benefited by what they have learned and
seen.
The first-year boys and the new recruits begin to take up their studies,
which are those taught in the common schools--geography, history of the
United States, English grammar, arithmetic, algebra, and last, but not
least, theoretical navigation. Ship's routine is followed in their daily
life, but there is plenty of time for play and skylarking.
When a boy has been graduated from this school, if he has paid attention
to his duties and his studies, he is competent to navigate a vessel, he
understands thoroughly dead reckoning, and he knows how to find the
latitude and longitude by the sun, moon, planets, or stars, and besides
this, he knows the duties of a seaman from beginning to end. There is
nothing for him to learn about the handling of a sailing-vessel, for he
has taken his trick at the wheel, he has learned the rule of the road,
and how to give proper orders. He can heave the lead like an old hand,
and has had plenty of practice in handling small boats under both oars
and sails. The American sailor has proved himself often indeed to be the
best afloat, and the lad from the _St. Mary's_ is qualified to take
first rank.
During the war of the rebellion many of the commissioned officers were
drawn from the ranks of the merchant marine. Had the _St. Mary's_ then
been in existence, her boys would have given accounts of themselves, and
there is no question that, should at some future time a war arise, there
would be places aplenty for them to make use of the knowledge they have
gained, or to win laurels in the service of their country. Not long ago
a big sailing-ship, returning home from a long cruise, had the
misfortune to lose, by death and accident, all of her officers fit to
navigate and command her. On board at the time was one of the _St.
Mary's_ lads, only nineteen years of age, and the command and
responsibility of bringing the great ship safely to port fell upon his
shoulders. I am glad to state that he did not fear or shirk the
responsibility, and that the grown men under him knew at once that they
had a commander who was familiar with his business, and who could be
trusted in any emergency, for they encountered severe storms after the
boy Captain had assumed command.
The officers of the school-ship are all graduates of Annapolis and
appointed by the government, and the petty officers are made up of old
men-of-war's men, a few of whom are on board as assistant instructors.
The boys, however, fill some of these positions themselves, and thus
early assume the duties which teach them how to get on with men who are
compelled to obey their orders.
If a boy has a taste for the sea, and his parents have no objections to
his selecting it as a calling, he can find out a great deal about the
world and not a little about himself by spending two years on board the
school-ship _St. Mary's_.
THE TRANSFERRED FLAG.
BY JAMES BUCKHAM.
Frigate and schooner in conflict dread,
Banners throbbing at each mast-head;
England's jack in the smoke and reek,
Stars and stripes at the schooner's peak.
Clash and roar of the awful fight;
Sabres gleaming like shafts of light;
Crack of pistols; a musket's boom;
Shouts and groans in the drifting gloom.
Overhead, in the murk, the flags
Toss, with their edges torn to rags,
Lash at each other, and writhe and snap--
Silken musketry, clap on clap!
See! On the Yankee yard-arm stands
A daring middy, with outspread hands!
He bends, he leaps--and without a slip,
Catches the yard of the British ship!
Up, up, he climbs, till, the cross-trees past,
He reaches the top of the swaying mast.
Then, with a slash of his knife, he throws
The British flag to his country's foes.
Lo! from his bosom, like flame unfurled,
He draws the banner that rules the world,
And nails it there, with its crimson bars
And gleaming glory of unstained stars!
Quick was the brain that conceived the thought,
And brave the deed that the sailor-boy wrought;
Bright he his name on history's roll,
And far the flash of his hero-soul!
SEED-SOWING.
BY EMMA J. GRAY.
Gardening is said to come natural to Japanese boys and girls, but there
is no reason why our amateur gardeners should not rival them.
Spring has been well named the "mother of the flowers," for then indeed
nature wakes. The previously hard soil softens, gentle showers fall, the
long sunny days follow one after the other, and serious mistake must
indeed have been made at the time of planting if the cheerless winter
garden is not readily transformed into beds and bowers of delicate
richest color, and bewilderingly beautiful flowers do not send lavish
and grateful odor.
An important matter, however, is the preparation of the soil, and
another quite as important is to sow seeds late and not early. Then,
too, attention must be given to their size and construction. Some seeds
are round and tiny, such as the portulaca. These are scattered over the
ground and gently mixed by the hand into the soil, while others must be
planted, really embedded in the earth, such as sweet-pease. Again, other
seeds have a shell-like covering, which must be removed before sowing,
and others must be placed in the earth in a special direction. We have
all heard of the boy who wondered why his beans didn't grow. On
investigation he learned they were growing as fast as possible, only
they would have bloomed and borne in China, for he had planted them
upside down. Seeds such as the verbena must be planted lengthwise, and
there are others which must be soaked before planting at all.
Young gardeners should commence with the easiest-raised plants, and wait
until experience and study will lend a hand with the more difficult. And
do not forget that the world is full of kind people who will gladly tell
you what you do not know.
After sunset is the best time for seed-sowing. When they are sown,
gently water, and then cover with an old piece of carpet. This is to
keep the ground in a more equal temperature. Every evening pick up the
carpet and examine the earth. Keep it moist--not wet--and when the seeds
are sprouted replace the carpet with paper. To prevent this blowing, put
stones on its outer edges. When the tender shoots are positively strong,
hardy enough to withstand violent winds and hot suns, remove the paper.
Keep on watch for the unexpected--such as insects, for example, which
must be picked off. Weed carefully, and water when necessary.
Beginners may be sure of success if they sow any of the following seeds:
Sweet-alyssum and candy-tuft, both of which have delicate white
blossoms, and bloom freely from June to October; asters, which are very
hardy, and whose colors are without number and exceedingly showy;
balsam--or, as usually called, lady's-slipper, both double and single,
is an old-fashioned favorite; morning-glories are beautiful, and fine to
cover an unsightly pole or unpainted fence; mignonette and pansies will
be sweet, while zinnia, portulaca, and marigold will lend brilliance.
A NATURALIST'S BOYHOOD.
MR. WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON'S START.
BY BARNET PHILLIPS.
I am enjoying a book, a picture, a statue, or say a piece of music. I know
these to be the finished works of the man or the woman, but I invariably
hark back to the boy or the girl.
What I want to discover is the precise time, in the lives of certain
boys and girls, when the steel first struck the flint, the spark flew,
and out streamed that jet of fire which never afterwards was
extinguished.
I was reading an article entitled "Professor Wriggler," written by Mr.
William Hamilton Gibson, which appeared in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, in the
number of October 31, 1893. I need not tell you that both old and young,
at home and abroad, delight in reading what Mr. Hamilton Gibson has
written, because he was not alone the most observant of naturalists, but
a distinguished artist and a sympathetic author.
[Illustration: THE LATE WILLIAM HAMILTON GIBSON.]
He thus filled a peculiar position in the literary and artistic world
which is seldom given to any one man to fill. Besides being a naturalist
from his boyhood, he was able to write better than most people what he
wished to write, and to illustrate his articles in a way that was
unique. Mr. Gibson's death a few days ago, therefore, has closed the
career of a man who had the ability to interest a large number of people
not only in natural history, but in art and literature.
The news of Mr. Gibson's death came to me suddenly, and as I was reading
it I recalled an interesting talk I had with him less than a year ago
about his work early in life and the way he got his start. I had been
reading one of his articles to a lady, who, when she heard the name of
the author, said:
"Why, I knew Mr. Hamilton Gibson long ago. When he was a lad he painted
a lovely drop-curtain for us. He could not have been more than fifteen
or sixteen then."
The next time I met Mr. Hamilton Gibson I asked him about this
drop-curtain. "Do you remember it?"
"Certainly I do. We had a temperance society at Sandy Hook, Connecticut,
and we gave a grand entertainment. I made the drop-curtain. It
represented a wood. There was a rock in the foreground, and a
Virginia-creeper was climbing over it."
"Was it an original composition?" I asked.
"I made many studies of the rock and the Virginia-creeper from nature.
On the other side of the curtain I painted a drawing-room. There were a
marble mantelpiece, a clock, and lace curtains. I don't think I enjoyed
painting the clock as much as the Virginia-creeper."
"To paint a drop curtain at fifteen or sixteen means that you had then a
certain facility. But that could not have been your beginning. When did
you break your shell? What chipped or cracked your egg, so that your
particular bird emerged, chirped, and finally took flight? That was what
I wanted to know."
"Is that what you are after?" asked Mr. Hamilton Gibson. "From my baby
days I was curious about flowers and insects. The two were always united
in my mind. What could not have been more than a childish guess was
confirmed in my later days." Then Mr. Hamilton Gibson paused. I could
see he was recalling, not without emotion, some memories of the long
past.
"I was very young, and playing in the woods. I tossed over the fallen
leaves, when I came across a chrysalis. There was nothing remarkable in
that, for I knew what it was. But, wonderful to relate, providentially I
deem it, as I held the object in my hand a butterfly slowly emerged,
then fluttered in my fingers."
"You were pleased with its beauty," I said.
"Oh! It was more than that. I do not know whether I was or was not a
youngster with an imagination, but suddenly the spiritual view of a new
or of another life struck me. I saw in this jewel born from an unadorned
casket some inkling of immortality. Yes, that butterfly breaking from
its chrysalis in my hand shaped my future career."
"But some young people may feel passing impulses, but how account for
your artistic skill and literary powers?"
"As to the art side, at least deftness of hand came early. I had the
most methodical of grandmothers. Every day I had a certain task. I made
a square of patch-work for a quilt. I learned how to sew, and I can sew
neatly to-day. I knew how to use my fingers."
"Did you like patch-work?" I inquired.
"I simply despised it. Sewing must have helped me, for it was
eye-training, and when I went to work with a pencil and a paint-brush I
really had no trouble. I read a great deal. I devoured Cooper's novels
and the Rollo series; but there was one special volume, _Harris on
Insects_, I never tired of. I studied that over and over again. It was
the illustrations of Marsh which fascinated me. I never found a bug,
caterpillar, or butterfly that I did not compare my specimens with the
Marsh pictures. I learned this way much which I have never forgotten."
"Had you any particular advantages?"
"Yes; my brother was a doctor, and he let me use his microscope, and so
I acquired a knowledge of the details of flowers and insects that escape
the naked eye. I pulled flowers to pieces, but not in the spirit of
destruction, but so that I might better understand their structure. When
I was ten I had a long illness. When I was getting better, I was
permitted to take an hour's or so turn in the garden. That hour I
devoted to collecting insects and flowers. On my return to my room, what
I had collected amused me until I could get out again next day or the
day after."
"It was pleasure and study combined," I said.
"I was not conscious that I was studying. Then in my sick-room I began
to draw and paint the insects. I think I was conscientious about it, and
careful--perhaps minutely so. I tried to put on paper exactly what I
saw, and nothing else. You say you like 'Professor Wriggler.' I drew him
when I was ten or eleven, and I could not make him any more accurate
to-day than I did thirty years ago."
"Were you encouraged at your work?" I inquired.
"Yes; once I was much pleased. I came across a curious insect. I could
not find it in the books. I made a drawing of it and sent it to a
professor of the Smithsonian, asking him to give me its scientific name.
Back came by return mail my sketch, and under it the Latin name. The
professor wrote me that if the people who were always annoying him with
pictures of impossible bugs would only send him as accurate a picture as
was mine, he never would have any more bother."
"Did you have any setbacks?"
"Yes; and I haven't forgotten it up to to-day. I was always collecting,
and I had brought together every insect I had found in my neighborhood.
As I took them home I pinned them in the drawers of an old-fashioned
bureau. In time the whole of the drawers, bottom and sides, were full of
pinned specimens, and there was room for no more. I had saved enough
money to buy a cabinet, and I went to New York and purchased one. When I
returned home the first thing I did was to look at my precious
collection. When I opened a drawer there was a confused mass of wings
only. One single wretch of a black ant had got in, and had passed the
word to 10,000 other black ants. They had eaten the bodies of my insects
in all the drawers. That quite broke my heart."
"But your writing. How did that come about?" I asked.
"I don't think that you can develop in one direction only. You must
unbosom yourself. You are forced to tell or to write about the things
you have most at heart. When I was a small boy I wrote a book for
myself, and called it 'Botany on the Half-shell.' The first thing I ever
wrote which was printed was an article for one of Messrs. Harper's
publications, and I made the pictures for it. That was my début."
"Then your work went hand in hand?"
[Illustration: MR. GIBSON AT WORK IN HIS STUDIO.]
"Certainly. The one was the stimulant of the other. We all grew up
together. The days spent in my room when I was ill helped me. I think I
studied flowers then, so that their forms and colors were indelibly
impressed on my mind. When I was older I made a small bunch of flowers
in wax. Not a detail escaped me. I made moulds of all kinds of leaves.
Once I put together a rose, some sprigs of mignonette and heliotrope in
wax, and gave them to my dear old friend, Henry Ward Beecher. He was
delighted with my flowers, and put them on his study table. Presently
Mrs. Beecher came in. She ran to the flowers and broke the rose all to
pieces.
"How could she have done that?" I asked.
"It must have been with her nose. She wanted to smell the rose."
Then Mr Hamilton Gibson showed me some monster drawings of
flowers--Brobdingnagian ones. The flowers opened and closed when you
pulled a string, showing their interior structure. Here were bees or
other insects, and they flew into the flowers, collected the honey, and,
above all, the pollen, and buzzed out again. He explained to me how
plant life would perish were it not for certain insects, which bring a
new existence to flowers; for without these winged helpers there would
be no longer any varieties of flowers or seeds.
You will see, then, that in tracing the beginning of Mr. Hamilton
Gibson's career what I mean by harking backwards.
I am certain, too, that in every boy and girl there is something good
and excellent. Like the flower visited by the bee, all it wants is
impulse. Then, as Mr. Hamilton Gibson explained it to me, will come the
blossoming, and lastly perfect fruitage.
[Illustration: INTERSCHOLASTIC SPORT]
The choice of officials at the National Games is another subject which
will bear discussion, and although I have reserved it until the last, it
must not be considered that this is because I have considered it of any
less importance than the various subjects connected with these games
that have been discussed within the past few weeks in this Department.
All who regularly attend interscholastic track and field games,
especially graduates of the New York schools, and those who watch their
young brothers and cousins in their indulgence in sport, were much
surprised when they looked over the programme of the National Games and
saw the list of men who had been invited to act as officials.
There is a certain number of gentlemen in this city who have become so
thoroughly identified with school-boy sports that their names are always
to be found on the list of officials at interscholastic games. At the
National Games, however, it was different, and there are many who
resented the change.
In the first place, school sports--and college sports, for that
matter--are supposed to be somewhat different in tone from other sports,
even from those of amateur athletic associations. We try to conduct them
on a higher plane, and we try to give to them a purer spirit of
amateurism and comradeship than can be obtained by other organizations.
And in carrying out this idea it has always been the custom to have
school or college graduates act as officials.
At the National Games this unwritten law or custom was not carried out,
and many of the New York school-boys felt that the visiting athletes
were receiving a wrong impression of the way in which we do things down
here. Many questioned me concerning the change that they noticed on the
first page of the programme, but being no wiser than they at the time,
I was unable to enlighten them. Since then, however, I have learned that
the change was due to ignorance on the part of the managers of the day
rather than to any desire for reform.
INTERSCHOLASTIC RECORDS OF THE UNITED STATES.