change a boy undergoes after a few months at
the institution. I was told of would-be sailors who were sloppy and
dirty when they entered the school being transformed into neat, fine
physical specimens.

"A hair-cut, a wash, a change of underwear and other garments makes all
the difference in the world," said one of the instructors. "And when you
add to this lessons in sea-neatness, a good deal of interesting
headwork, manual labour, good food and plenty of recreation, it's no
wonder that the mill makes a new boy of one of the seafaring aspirants."

The boys have one great mess-room; and, although they never have been to
sea, they are taught to treat the school as if it were a war vessel.
They ate with vigour when I saw them, and I was told that the money
given to them by the Government is spent for extras in the eating
line--principally candies. Each table constitutes a mess, and there are
prizes for the cleanest and best-arranged mess; so they arrange their
knives, forks, and spoons in a design calculated to catch the
prize-awarder's eye. And, incidentally, this idea of giving prizes for
the best-kept mess is followed throughout the service.

Each day is started with prayer on the quarter-deck, and an impressive
ceremony it is. Honour and glory is what they will tell you they hope
to get out of the Navy, and not money. And the idea of honour, as it is
known in the Navy, is drummed into them from the moment they enter the
school.

To see these youngsters at any meal is to believe that it was the first
time they had eaten for a week. They are ravenously hungry, and the food
is of such excellence that it makes a visitor feel as if he would like
to sit down too. There is little waste here, for I observed that each
plate was polished clean; and, when eating was over, the boys bounded
out for an hour's recreation on the spacious grounds. On their way many
of them paid a visit to the candy-store, and while they were playing
they munched candy.

The port where this school is located is a healthful spot, and in war
time no person is permitted to board a ferry to the school without a
special pass. When you first land you are decidedly struck by the great
figure-heads of old war vessels, which are set up on the "quarter-deck"
and in front of some of the buildings. There is one of the old Ganges
there--a mammoth wooden head of a very black negro. The size of it is
startling.

The officers have a charmingly comfortable ward-