It may be well to remark here, that the Rev. Mr. Hollins was not one of the “launch’d chaplains” that used to do discredit to the navy of this country, or a layman dubbed with such a title, and rated that he might get the pay and become a boon companion of the captain, at the table and in his frolicks ashore. Those days are gone by, and ministers of the gospel are now really employed to care for the souls of the poor sailors, who so long have been treated by others, and have treated themselves, indeed, as if they were beings without souls altogether. In these particulars the world has certainly advanced, though the wise and the good, in looking around them, may feel more cause for astonishment in contemplating what it once was, than to rejoice in what it actually is. But intellect has certainly improved in the aggregate, if not in its especial dispensations, and men will not now submit to abuses that, within the recollections of a generation, they even cherished. In reference to the more intellectual appointments of a ship of war, the commander excepted, for we contend he who directs all ought to possess the most capacity, but, in reference to what are ordinarily believed to be the more intellectual appointments of a vessel of war, the surgeon and the chaplain, we well recollect opinions that were expressed to us, many years since, by two officers of the highest rank known to the service. “When I first entered the navy,” said one of these old Benbows, “if I had occasion for the amputation of a leg, and the question lay between the carpenter and the doctor, d—e, but I would have tried the carpenter first, for I felt pretty certain he would have been the most likely to get through with the job.” “In old times,” said the other, “when a chaplain joined a ship, the question immediately arose whether the mess were to convert the chaplain, or the chaplain the mess, and the mess generally got the best of it.” There was very little exaggeration in either of these opinions. But, happily, all this is changed vastly for the better, and a navy-surgeon is necessarily a man of education and experience; in very many instances men of high talents are to be found among them; while chaplains can do something better than play at back-gammon, eat terrapins, when in what may be called terrapin-ports, and drink brandy and water, or pure Bob Smith.[1] “It is a great mistake, Wallace, to fancy that the highest duty a man owes is either to his ship or to his country,” observed the Rev. Mr. Hollins quietly. “The highest duty of each and all of us is to God; and whatever conflicts with that duty must be avoided as a transgression of his laws, and consequently as a sin.” “You surprise me, reverend and dear sir! I do not remember ever to have heard you broach such opinions before, which might be interpreted to mean that a fellow might be disloyal to his flag.”