The present condition of the navy is not such as to satisfy the desire of the people that it should be sustained on a footing commensurate with the position of the nation, and in keeping with its ancient reputation. For many years circumstances have intervened to prevent a judicious rehabilitation of the navy, notwithstanding that its needs have been faithfully presented to Congress year after year. The country has been wonderfully favored with peace at home and abroad, and no urgent call to arms has roused the nation to prepare for war. The rapidity with which a large fleet of cruising ships for blockading purposes was extemporized during our civil war has left a hurtful impression on the public mind that in an emergency a similar effort might prove equally efficacious—disregarding altogether the difference in circumstances of contending with an enemy possessed of a naval force and with one possessed of none. The economists have suggested that as all that relates to ships, guns, and motive forces was being rapidly developed by others, it would be a saving of the people’s money to await results, and to benefit by the experience of others; and, again, party rivalry and contentions have assisted to postpone action. It has never been the intention that the navy should die from neglect and be obliterated. Yearly appropriations have been faithfully passed for the support of the _personnel_, and for such repairs as were found to be indispensable for the old ships that have been kept in commission; but it is now seen that this system of temporizing has been the poorest kind of economy. This money has been invested necessarily in perishable material, the amounts have been insufficient to compass new constructions, whether in ships or guns, and the only use that could be made of them was to repair wooden ships and convert cast-iron guns, whereas the work needed was to construct steel ships and to fabricate steel guns. In referring to the navy of the past, it is impossible to avoid recalling the feeling of pride with which an American seaman—officer or man—walked the deck of his ship. This feeling was common to the naval and commercial marine. Our wooden ships that sailed the ocean from 1840 to 1860 were the finest in the world. The old frigate _Congress_ in 1842 was the noblest specimen of the frigates of the day, and the sloop-of-war _Portsmouth_ was unsurpassed as a corvette. The clipper ships of that period need no eulogy beyond their own record. These ships were the models for the imitation of all maritime nations, and among the constructors of the period can be recalled, without detriment to many others omitted, the names of Lenthall, Steers, Pook, and Delano. The poetry of sailing reached its zenith during this period.