his command.

It may not be out of place to relate a characteristic story of Admiral
Sims, whose career in our service, whose notable contributions to naval
gunnery are too well known to need repetition. Several years ago, on a
memorable trip to England, he was designated by the admiral of the fleet
to be present at a banquet given our sailors in the Guildhall. Of course
the lord mayor called upon him for a speech, but Commander Sims insisted
that a bluejacket should make the address. "What, a bluejacket!"
exclaimed the lord mayor in astonishment. "Do bluejackets make speeches
in your country?" "Certainly they do," said Sims. "Now there's a
fine-looking man over there, a quartermaster on my ship. Let's call on
him and see what he has to say." The quartermaster, duly summoned, rose
with aplomb and delivered himself of a speech that made the hall
ring, that formed the subject of a puzzled and amazed comment by
the newspapers of the British Capital. Nor was it ever divulged
that Commander Sims had foreseen the occasion and had picked out the
impressive quartermaster to make a reputation for oratory for the
enlisted force.

As a matter of fact, it is no exaggeration to add that there were and
are other non-commissioned officers and enlisted men in the service who
could have acquitted themselves equally well. One has only to attend
some of their theatrical performances to be assured of it.

But to the European mind our bluejacket is still something of an
anomaly. He is a credit to our public schools, a fruit of our system
of universal education. And he belongs to a service in which are
reconciled, paradoxically, democracy and discipline. One moment you may
hear a bluejacket talking to an officer as man to man, and the next you
will see him salute and obey an order implicitly.

On a wet and smoky night I went from the London streets into the
brightness and warmth of that refuge for American soldiers and sailors,
the "Eagle Hut," as the Y. M. C. A. is called. The place was full,
as usual, but my glance was at once attracted by three strapping,
intelligent-looking men in sailor blouses playing pool in a corner. "I
simply can't get used to the fact that people like that are ordinary
sailors," said the lady in charge to me as we leaned against the
soda-fountain. "They're a continual pride and delight to us Americans
here--always so willing to help when there's anything to be done, and
so interesting to talk to." When I sugges