W

HILE public interest is at present more or less engaged with the doings of our naval officers, there is a private contingent whose interest in the officers themselves is nothing less than vital, because of the fact that these same servants of Uncle Sam stand to them in relationship of fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers, and represent to them not only the Nation's safeguard, but also the guardians and protectors of their hearts and homes.

The home life of an officer of the Govern ment constantly under orders to "move on" may appear to the casual observer to be analogous to the Irishman's "road that led to nowhere;" but a little closer observation of the naval life itself, presenting, as it does, possibilities of a novelty and variety quite unique among the professions of the Government, will show that, in spite of the vicissitudes of its ever-varying interest and changing scene, there is the same strong and steady undercurrent of love for the "home" that caused Howard Payne to immortalize himself in song.

On the subject of this home life in relation to the wives and daughters of naval officers, the most enjoyable chapters would doubtless be those concerning the woman who follows the ship. Here we have a topic remarkably fruitful of argument, and one on which all shades of opinion have been expressed, from that of ex-Secretary of the Navy Chandlerwho while in office positively forbade the members of a man's family to follow the ship from port to port to the opinion as expressed by the conduct of a very few women (be it said for the credit of the majority), who, on well-authenticated occasions, when in port with the ship, have actually gone to this length, that the woman whose husband was caterer at the time actually ran the wardroom mess for him. These instances show the antipodean limits to which ship-following has been carried, and, it must be remembered, are extreme cases. As a rule, the woman who follows the ship makes little trouble for

Miss Annie Paulding Meade, the author of this article, is the daughter of the late Admiral Meade, and granddaughter of Commodore Richard Worsam Meade and Admiral Hiram Paulding, United States Navy.THE EDITORs.

the "powers that be to cavil at, and, for her part, enjoys unusual facilities for seeing the world. Where trouble has been made, it has invariably been the fault of the individual and not of the habit, the strongest argument in extenuation of which is the "home" argument. By this I mean that I see no impropriety, if a man is ordered for a term of years to a foreign station, in his wife or family making their residence in such a place that he may be enabled to spend his leave at home, which he certainly could not do were they in the United States and he, for instance, attached to the Asiatic squadron. The habit of some women of having no settled abiding-place on a foreign station, but of following the ship from port to port, is the habit from which most of the abuses of the system have arisen; nevertheless, there is not the slightest reason, if regulations be strictly observed, why such a system should not exist in all propriety and no offense be given.

The "bon camaraderie " established among the wanderers from home on a foreign station can seldom be entered into by those who have not had the same experience. The wife keeps in touch with her husband's interests, knows his friends, their tastes and his, and, if she has a settled home, keeps open house for all those brother officers to whom it may please her husband to offer hospitality; and so grows up that thoroughgoing, unconventional friendship that makes the clan feeling so strong among us. Also, she can generally make herself agreeable in several languages— this oftentimes being the result of necessity— while the woman who has stayed at home will, in competitive conversation, find that she is handicapped and outdone by comparison with her more traveled sister. I have in mind an introduction I once witnessed: A lady who had followed her husband was calling on one of those wives who had stayed at home. During the call another visitor came in, an officer whose ship had just arrived in port. The hostess was about to introduce her guests, but found it unnecessary to do so. "Oh," explained the officer, " Mrs. L and

I are old shipmates and friends; we met in Montevideo," and, the conversation turning to the South Atlantic station, the hostess

naturally felt herself more or less outside its pale, except where her woman's wit or interlocutory gift came to her aid.

Although I am strongly in favor, under certain conditions, of-shall we call it?-naval globe-trotting, yet I should be the very last one to so much as breathe an unfavorable comment upon those wives who, for reasons best known to themselves, say the bravest good-by they are able to the husband whose cruise is in prospect, and then settle themselves patiently to wait for his return. The skeleton in the closet in many of these cases is that "mossy old veteran "—expense; and this brings us to another question that of salary. "Can a naval officer with a family live comfortably on his salary?" is a question that has been asked and discussed till it is threadbare, and it cannot be answered in unison even yet. When he is at sea, that salary, of course, is divided, and, though larger than his shore pay, there are no quarters for his family, consequently his expenses are almost doubled. Here comes in the wife's chance to show the soldier in her; and it warms my heart to have the opportunity to pay even the smallest tribute to some of those whose unflinching courage, in the face of privations perfectly unknown to the world. because of the masking smile worn, has challenged my admiration time and again, and has proved the woman to be in very truth, as in design, "a help meet for man."

An example of one of our old-time naval heroines may fittingly be quoted here. Somewhere about the year 1830 two young people were married; he was a naval officer, who had learned his profession under the direct eye of such men as McDonough, Decatur, and Bainbridge, and, though young, had seen much service. She was a quiet, brown-eyed girl of twenty at the time. The service life then differed considerably from that which we know now. Cruises were longer, quarters were rare, and the pay was smaller. These young people had a little capital, which they invested in a farm on the north shore of Long Island. It was far in the country in those days, being eighteen miles beyond Hicksville, then the nearest railway station. The remainder of the journey was performed by stage-coach. It may sound incredible that a woman could accomplish so much, but the record, nevertheless, is true that the woman in question ran that farm of one hundred acres and made it pay well, brought up six children-three of whom have since seen

much of service life—and, with all the disadvantages of distance and poor communication, managed to keep in touch with the news of the times and to keep her husband (who, while in the junior grades of his profession, was kept constantly at sea) informed on all matters of interest connected with the home stations and department. It goes without saying that she who accomplished all this filled well her place in the larger world when, in after years, her husband at different times commanded three of our most important home stations. This note made from the life of a woman of two generations ago bears very little resemblance to the life of to-day, but the contrast I think in no way detracts from either picture.

Though the topic of the home station offers less of change and excitement than does that of the foreign station, it yet is not lacking either in interest or variety, and, to my mind, is one of the most satisfactory phases of our naval life. In particular, the life in one of our navy-yards contains possibilities of pleasure and comfort in proportion to our capacity for enjoyment and our willingness to make the best of such matters as may prove uncongenial to us. Certainly our naval home life has greatly the advantage over that of most army posts (particularly those of the frontier) in that we are never thrust out of the world in entire dependence upon those stationed with us for friendship, society, and enjoyment, though, like them, we form a small village or a large family according to the amount of congeniality existing among us. But we have fewer quarrels in our communities than occur in army posts, because our outside interests are greater. Oftentimes we of the same stationwhen the " family" feeling exists-if we meet in the great world, pass each other with a hand-clasp, but never a word, so great is that mutual confidence in one another's comprehension of existing conditions; and then, too, we know that we shall have ample oppor tunity to discuss the particular occasion later. This feeling of clan in the naval service is undoubtedly strong, but we are saved from the narrower view of life to which our cousins in the army are so frequently subjected. The naval kaleidoscope in the hands of the Bureau of Navigation is kept well and constantly shaken. Often we have hardly come into touch with our neighbors and surroundings before the whole scene is shifted. This constant change of scene has its value

from an educational standpoint, but it is the later education of life to which that value belongs; for the children it is disastrous, and makes boarding-school or the English method of employing a governess almost the only alternatives.

The vista of possibilities for enjoyment through which we look opens up a broad and varied scene, the diversity of which ought surely to be sufficient to satisfy all temperaments. For the woman interested in public matters and who enjoys the social side of life, there are presented endless opportunities for coming in contact with those men and women who "make history," and of seeing for herself what to other women, though of the same social standing yet in private life, would often be denied. She has every op portunity, if her fancy lie in that direction, to know the diplomatic circles well; she may even dabble in politics should that same fancy carry her so far. In this connection I have to admit the truth of the assertion that a large part of our Government wirepulling is done by the women, and though this sort of thing is not strictly "en règle," yet it is permitted, and it must be said that some of the feats performed in this direction are as pretty as they are difficult. Also in the matter of obtaining house lowances feminine diplomacy figures largely; and I shall never forget the comically pathetic look of an expert in this line when, in speaking to another officer of her husband's retirement, she mournfully shook her head, saying, "There are no more pickings' for us now, Admiral, no more pickings.'" It was her own expression, and, to vary an old saw, she "suited her words to her former actions."

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If one has the disposition to make use of such gifts as the gods see fit to send us, we shall find that the possibilities for pleasure and comfort in our home life are very great. I have practically learned that one can live very much better on the same sum in one of our navy-yards than in private life. This I know from having tried both; for when the sea duty comes, we women who stay at home become civilians, and it is then we are made aware how much further the salary will go in our navy-yards than in outside life. Why is this? To begin with, the salary alone is not the only emolument we have; there are also "quarters ;" and most of these, having been built in a more generous age than at present, are larger than the ordinary hse of to-day and extremely comfortable.

In some cases, as for instance those of the commanding officers, they are often palatial. They are warmed by steam and kept in order for us at the Government's expense. The Commandant's house at the Boston yard is probably in the interior especially-the handsomest in the gift of the Government, though not so homelike as the Commandant's house at Washington, with its low, wide piazzas and old-fashioned rose garden. I am re minded by the name "Commandant's house " of an amusing mistake in orthography it once led to. We had been shopping, and ordered our purchases to be sent home. "Where to ?" demanded the saleswoman. "NavyYard is all the address necessary," we replied. "That is not defnite enough," she declared; "is there no number on your house?' "You may add Commandant's House' if you want to," we replied; and the package came home marked " Common Dance House"!

Most of our Government houses have gardens attached; and these, according to size, infer a certain amount of pleasure or comfort. There is also a man, whom the Government enlists and pays, detailed to look after them. The commanding officer has also an allowance for servants, and a horse, carriage, and stable outfit complete. These allowances are necessary to him, as he is expected to be always ready to entertain any guest of honor who may visit the station. Every officer may keep a cow if he has permission from the Commandant to do so, and it is not an unfrequent sight to see a number of these animals tethered in our gun parks or grazing upon the uncultivated spots in our navy-yards. We have also a great deal of service free that we should have to pay roundly for in outside life. For instance (I confine myself to trifles), there is a spare corner where I want a cupboard made or some book-shelves built, and I ask, “May I have a carpenter ?" The carpenter comes and does the work, the painter finishes it, and I have the credit of having put an improvement on the house. These are some of the homely points of interest connected with our navy-yard life.

From the social standpoint the advantages for entertaining are very great, though the Commandant is the only one required by Government to keep open house. The junior officers are very apt to do so too, however, for their own pleasure or satisfaction.

A navy-yard dance is almost a synonym for a good time to the younger fraternity,

and though it necessarily entails a certain amount of work and expense to those on whose shoulders the responsibility rests, yet this same work, if the executive head be clear, can be accomplished more easily, at less cost, and with far more brilliant effect than the same thing could be done in private life.

It is often amusing to women of our life (I had almost written "profession ") to note the way in which we are regarded by those unacquainted with its circumstances and conditions. A young lady once remarked to me that I did not at all tally with her ideas of what I should naturally be. "In what am I lacking?" I asked. "You are so quiet," she said, almost peevishly, "and you have none of that slam! bang! dash or rollicking air that I thought all navy people had ;" and I thanked Heaven à la Pharisee. In fact, those who are looking for a type by which to recognize the navy woman will fail in the majority of cases, though there are those among our numbers who I have no doubt would fully justify my young friend's sense of the fitness of things.

"And are there no drawbacks to naval life?" some will ask. "You have pictured it all advantage and pleasure thus far!" So I have, because I believe in putting my best foot foremost; but stop and think a moment. What, for instance, do the women of the world in general know of the anxiety that was ours during the recent crisis of National affairs? Yet it is the profession of our men to fight, and when the call to arms comes we have no right to say a word but such as will give encouragement and comfort to them. The wife or daughter who makes it hard for a man to do his duty is far from performing her own. Yet what does it cost us, do you think, to keep back the words—aye, and the tears— when the heart is full?

During the last few months some of our navy-yards presented a curious feature of the effect of the war. The wives and families of those sent to the front were allowed to remain in their quarters; consequently our navy-yards were mainly peopled by women and children. A very few officers were left-in some of the less important yards not more than three or four. Of the enlisted men there was hardly a corporal's guard left. We hardly knew ourselves in this unusual state. But, thank Heaven! this condition of affairs was an exception and not the rule. Our ordinary troubles and drawbacks are of a

less vital nature, however, and can generally be traced either to some such source as, for instance, the monetary supply being not equal to the demand, or to an uncongenial person among us-one crooked stick, so to speak, that absolutely refuses to fit in with the others or to allow them to fit together. Or sometimes the people on a station will get into cliques that will entirely prevent any such thing as unity of action, and in consequence debar us from many pleasures that a little tact and forbearance with one another might give us. Under such circumstances navy-yard life leaves much to be desired, but I am thankful to say such cases have been rare in my experience. I have heard it roundly asserted that navy-yards are proverbial for the amount of gossip they circulate; but all the world gossips at times, and I do not believe we are any worse than our neighbors. All I can say in defense against such a charge is that my sisters of the service have certainly never gossiped to me, and, if not to me, then why to one another? As a class we have imbibed from our fathers, husbands, and brothers enough of that esprit de corps to bind us together in feelings of fellowship and a common cause. To return to the case of supply and demand, I would add that it is one of the big social problems that every individual has to work out for him or her self. We know exactly what the salaries are, what we have and what we may look forward to hoving, and if we fail to live within our means it is either the result of real misfortune or mismanagement.

One phase of our naval life that I have not yet touched upon is that of the retired list. The limit of age for active service is sixty-three years, but there is also a voluntary retired list for those who, not having reached the age-limit yet, have completed forty years of active service; also for those-and this frequently includes younger men-who have been incapacitated for duty by illness or accident. The reflections suggested by this array of men grown gray in the line of duty and resting after the years spent in their country's service would seem naturally to be those of the graver, quieter, if not somber, type. Thoughts of the eventide of life on the shores of the great unknown sea yet to be crossed, of purple shadows and soft opalescent tints that have succeeded to the glare of the noonday of activity, fill our minds; but, though such reflections may appeal to us, let us not mention them to any retired

man or the members of his family, unless we are sure of our listeners.

Thus far I have said nothing of the Marine Corps," the soldier and sailor too," as Rudyard Kipling says, and "the finest corps in the service," its officers always claim. They are generally selected from among the graduates of the Naval Academy, and are claimed as members of the naval profession. The men are enlisted and drilled as soldiers, and act as the police force of the navy. If any especially hard work is to be done, the marines are generally the men detailed to do that work; and well and bravely have they done it on many well-known occasions. The marine quarters are usually within navy-yard limits, as at Washington and Boston, though occasionally, as in the case of the New York barracks, they are separated from the line officers' quarters by at least a quarter of a mile. With the exception of the commanding officer, who has his own house, the officers and their families live in barracks somewhat on the apartment-house order, each having his flat or suite of rooms, which is generally very comfortable. The only real drawback I ever heard of, and which I think by this time has been remedied, was that in several instances two families were obliged to use the same kitchen; and on this point I am sure every housekeeper will offer ready sympathy. The stories incident to this condition of things that some of my marine sisters can tell on that ever-fruitful topic, the servantgirl question, are as remarkable as the situation was unique. Except for the difference in regard to the marine quarters, the home conditions are the same that we enjoy. When the marine officers go to sea, their families

are subject to the same conditions as if they belonged to the navy; and when they go to war, the wives and daughters have even greater cause for anxiety than we, for the marines are generally chosen as in our recent crisis at Santiago-to effect the first landing on the foreign soil and make a place for the army to follow; and then the work of the infantry could not be harder or more dangerous. "Soldiers and sailors too," indeed! Well said, Rudyard Kipling!

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The usual term for sea or shore duty for officers of the navy and marine corps varies so according to rank and occasion that it is impossible to make an exact statement, though from two to four years suggests a fair average detail. The one thing absolutely sure is that the orders will come; and when they do, each in turn is obliged to pull up stakes and report for new duty; and when that duty is a term of years at sea, it is then that those families who have means, or those women who have no children, in the majority of cases follow the ships. The others, the Nancy Lees" I call them, possess their souls in patience, and for the most part have their time fully occupied with the care of growing children, which care the absence of the "better half" has caused to devolve for the time being entirely on their shoulders. But women are born to endure, and our shoulders are oftentimes broader than they look, and experience in naval matters has taught us to make the best of our bargain, like the "soldiers of fortune" that we certainly are in our smaller way, looking forward to the date when our goodman is due at home again, and we can cry, with the night watchman, "All's well!"

It was a sheltered playground. Hardly the winds reached it, and the breakers which roared outside swished gently on its sand. When the sun shone brightly into the angle of cliff, it was warm there even in winter. And the children of the light-keeper had known no other. They had a fine house in the sand there the day before Christmas,