and, in proportion to the time spent, an unparalleled degree. For one thing, he will learn the value of minutes. Every day he does an amount of work of various kinds—from blacking his own shoes and putting every single thing in his room in its place, to learning a twenty-page lesson in naval history or forty pages of seamanship that would be impossible if he did not follow a daily schedule based on minutes. Almost literally every minute has its task. The commonest complaint of "plebes," or beginners, is that they haven't time; but by the end of the year they find themselves able to complete tasks in an hour that a year earlier they could only have begun in that time. Through routine comes efficiency in the use of time.

Furthermore, the power of memory developed by midshipmen in the course of three or four years is observed by everybody familiar with their work. When reciting they will reproduce page after page of the text-book with astonishing fidelity. This power comes only by habit, under pressure of daily necessity, of closing the mind to everything but the task of the moment. Concentration of mind to a remarkable degree may be expected as a

second peculiar benefit to be derived from Naval Academy training.

A sense of responsibility is another habit that the young citizen will acquire. He will learn that a man is strictly responsible for his own acts, and that he may even be accountable for the acts of others. He may be detailed, for instance, as section-leader in a group with a dozen other midshipmen. From the time they form in front of Bancroft Hall to the time when he stands at attention before the instructor's desk and says: "Sir, I report the nth section, Smith, B. B., absent," he is accountable for any infraction of the regulations by any one in the section. He may even receive twenty-five demerits for the "talking in ranks" that some one else is guilty of. Having full authority to maintain order and quiet in the section, he is expected to maintain them. In this daily facing of responsibility he develops a habit that every naval officer must have, and develops it more directly than he could elsewhere.

Still another thing the midshipman will be taught, explicitly if necessary, is good manners. He will learn that failure to salute an officer of the Academy is not

only a breach of the regulations but also a breach of military etiquette. So with the word of three letters that to some youths, if we may judge by the reluctance with which they use it, is the bitterest word in the language, the word "sir." It is no small boon to a young man to know or learn that "sir" can be said at the proper time without any derogation of his own dignity. Even so difficult a thing as table manners is taught by the upper classmen to those who need instruction. The ears of the backward one will be dinned with the cry, "Man overboard!" when he leaves his spoon in his cup, or "Boat your oars!" when his knife and fork are leaning against his plate, or "Rig in your boom, mister!" if his elbows tend to a horizontal position. In ways unofficial but ingenious and thorough, rebukes for table manners are conducive to cerebral activity. "Safety first" prompts the "plebe" to sit erect on the front edge of his chair, with elbows snug to ribs.

There is one more benefit, a fifth, so familiar that it is often forgotten at Annapolis. An evenly developed physique

is acquired by every Annapolis graduate. A first classman's "brace," or carriage, differs from a "plebe's" largely because of the physical training he has had. Every year each midshipman is given a careful test for almost every muscle in his body, and if he is much deficient, especially in swimming, he is assigned special work in the "gym," on the Weak Squad. Until his defect is corrected he is, in midshipmen's slang, a "Swedish gymnast," a member of the "Squid." The superior physical development and condition of midshipmen is apparent in every athletic contest. Even the casual observer is struck by their well-developed shoulders. and by their endurance. One might scan the entire regiment and not see a single scrawny neck.

Regularity of exercise, sleep, and eating, is one reason for the midshipmen's good physical condition. Another is the military cleanness that prevails throughout their larder, galley, and garbage cans. Huge electric ovens, bread mixers, pots, pans, and floors are all kept clean, not according to the standards of domestic

servants but militarily and germicidally clean. The Naval Academy dairy also carries a large responsibility for the regiment's health. Some years ago, when a surprisingly large percentage of the midshipmen seemed to be always off duty on account of gastro-intestinal disorders, an inspection of the commercial dairies supplying the Academy revealed shockingly unsanitary conditions. As a result, the Midshipmen's Storekeeper succeeded in having the Academy own and operate its own dairy. The effect of improved milk on the regiment's health was startling. To quote a comment more enthusiastic than logical: "Sickness was reduced six hundred per cent." The paymaster's report, by the way, about five years ago came to the attention of British army authorities and resulted in establishing government dairies for many army posts in India.

The Naval Academy does many things for its students, but its most valuable service and its chief claim to greatness lie in its teaching of ideals. At the Acad

emy standards which the officer of the United States navy is expected to live up to are shown by example and are stated to the student explicitly. The cult of duty is divided into simple principles that any one can grasp. They are taught by explanation, repetition, reward, and punishment. A midshipman's final mark is materially raised by good conduct, lowered by bad conduct. The ideals of military character are never lost sight of; they are the most emphasized thing the Academy has to teach. The first of these is obedience-unhesitating, thoughtful, and loyal obedience. The principle is well recognized that he must first learn to obey who would learn to command. The ideal of obedience the midshipman strives for is not to question even in his own mind any lawful order he receives. The cheerful "Ay, ay, sir!" with which he will execute the most distasteful of orders, is an inspiration to one accustomed to the more dilatory and recalcitrant obedience of civilian students. Thoughtfulness is the hardest phase of

obedience for him to learn, but with greater age and experience comes greater thinking power, and by the time he is a first classman he gives, when carrying out orders, unmistakable evidence of thought. As a principle of military doctrine he has been told what to do rather than the method of doing it. Instant and instinctive obedience is demanded, but thoughtfulness and initiative also are inculcated. On one occasion the first class came to feel that the regiment was becoming too careless in certain details of military discipline that were desired by the authorities. After full discussion of their responsibility for the morale of all the under classmen, they voted unanimously at a class meeting in favor of making the Academy absolutely "reg." Then the school witnessed an abolition of special privilege more astounding than the first Russian revolution. From that day all the regulations against talking, or turning of head, or scratching of nose in ranks, and for other points of military smartness, were carried out loyally. Some graver evils that had crept in, like gambling, were stamped out ruthlessly by the first class. It is doubtful if any school in the country to-day equals the Naval Academy in its ideal and in its attainment of the spirit of loyalty. Loyalty, as the midshipman learns soon after entering if he does not know it before, is essential to good team-work; and with the American naval officer the instinct for team-work is almost primary.

The midshipman of to-day is far superior in loyalty to his prototype of 1845. Within the enclosure of Fort Severn the first students were quartered in five small buildings. Of all these the Abbey enjoyed the best reputation. "In harmony with its name, its occupants were supposed to be pious and of a serious disposition. No skylarking disturbed its serenity, no roaring choruses came from its portals, and no illicit lights appeared after hours at its windows. So orderly and well behaved was it that the officer of the day was prone to omit it from his regular inspections. But when its extreme goodness came at last to look unnatural, suspicion lay but a step beyond. Then followed a sudden raid of the authorities and a swift descent from grace,

for behold a tunnel through the wall at the back of the house stood revealed, out of which its staid dwellers regularly escaped into town, or, as they called it, 'Frenched.' The silence which had prevailed at night was the silence of solitude, for the youngsters supposed to be peacefully studying or sleeping were indulging in hilarious larks outside. And when they were not at that they were receiving contraband bottles through the hole. So fell the Abbey, and Rowdy Row with open arms welcomed it to congenial wickedness." *

Still another ideal is pluck, which is developed here to an unusual degree. A display of "grit" is the surest road to the regiment's admiration. In the War of 1812, James Lawrence, after he had fallen in action, kept repeating in delirium: "Don't give up the ship!" The next year Perry went into battle on Lake Erie with his flagship, the Lawrence, flying the motto: "Don't give up the ship!" In the Civil War the Cumberland, when rammed by the Merrimac, sank with her guns firing as long as they were above water, and with her ensign flying to the last. The tradition of fight to the last thrills every midshipman on the football field as he sings: "Fight! Navy! Fight!" Even in the section-room it drives him to do his best. When told by his instructor to do the seemingly impossible, a midshipman never says, "I can't." He may say, "I don't know," but in the course of ten years' teaching at the Academy the writer has never heard the same one say even this more than once. Lawrence's words, "Don't give up the ship," are to-day a living force. In the very breath of life at the Academy is the tradition of doing one's best. His duty is his best.

Honor is a fourth ideal that is ever before the midshipman. Only a few times in the history of the Academy has he lapsed from his honorable aim. Not alone his own honor, but the honor of his class, of his service, is his concern. His honor and his conduct are also the concern of his classmates, for if he violates the "code," or if he is detected in cheating or lying, he will be reported to the authorities by the honor committee of his

*Park Benjamin, "United States Naval Academy" (1900), page 162.

class. Usually he does not wait for his resignation to be asked for, but leaves quietly and quickly. Since a midshipman's word is never questioned, the responsibility of every one to his class is heavy and keenly felt. Lying is lep

rosy,

After a few years of this moral discipline the young ensign is, as a matter of course, an officer and a gentleman. But he is also an idealist. He has thought concretely about obedience, loyalty, pluck, and honor. Duty to him is not a vague and complex ideal. His ear is quickened to hear its call and his will is trained to follow it. His duty is his vocation. In his heart he has the ideal of Nelson, who "loved his duty as a mistress."

The importance of the Naval Academy to the country has been reflected in its physical growth. At first it covered nine and three quarters acres. The first addition, in 1847, was of six acres and included that part of the present Academy between the chapel and the Severn. The academic limits now comprise 134.5 acres. The appropriations also serve as an index.

As we have seen, for the school's first year they were nothing; and when the first appropriation for his pet venture came up in the Senate in 1846 it was only Secretary Bancroft's personal influence and popularity that saved the item. Although in the sixties and seventies the budget was considerably larger than in antebellum days, it was pared down almost to the vanishing-point in 1882, when by law the number of graduates commissioned each year was reduced to ten. But with the splendid record for efficiency and enthusiasm for duty made by the Academy's graduates in the SpanishAmerican War came wide recognition for the place of their training. Congress voted ten million dollars for new buildings, and doubled the number of appointments. At the same time the teaching staff was enlarged by the addition of more civilian teachers in non-professional branches.

Still further recognition of this school's national importance has come with the Great War. The year 1916 saw the launching of our great building pro