Yes,--“articles in the papers,” written by caterers for mere sensational gabble, are apt to influence the majority of fools; and “doubtful views” are generally entertained by persons who in themselves are more than doubtful. But if a boy of twenty, after serving for three years under Admiral Beatty, can write, “_His qualities are magnificent_,” it means a very great deal. Young fellows of that age are not always easily impressed by their superiors,--they are more critical than complimentary; and the rules of naval discipline go hard with them unless administered by a kindly as well as just hand. “Eyes of the Sea” must be everywhere vigilant,--watching men’s minds equally with God’s stormy waters,--ever on the look-out for enemies of the soul as well as enemies of the country; and so well and truly do they watch,--so faithfully have they always watched, that sailors’ eyes have grown to be quite different to all other eyes in the world! We know them at once by their far-off steady gaze--by their look of mingled pathos, persistency, and cheerfulness,--by the sparkle of the waves and the light of stars which are somehow commingled in their keen glances, suggesting the wonderful power and indomitable energy of “one life, one flag, one fleet!” The strong lines of Alfred Tennyson, the last worthy Laureate of Great Britain, may well ring in our ears to-day:-- “You, _you_, if you shall fail to understand What England is, and what her all-in-all, On you will come the curse of all the land Should this old England fall Which Nelson left so great. His isle, the mightiest ocean-power on earth, Our own fair isle, the Lord of every sea, Her fuller franchise--what would that be worth, Her ancient fame of ‘Free,’ Were she--a fallen State? Her dauntless Army scattered and so small-- Her island myriads fed from alien lands, The Fleet of England is her all-in-all; Her Fleet is in your hands, And in her Fleet her Fate. You, you that have the ordering of her Fleet, _If_ you should only compass her disgrace, When all men starve, the wild mob’s million feet Will kick you from your place, But then too late, too late!” But Great Britain “is no longer an island,” we hear. Who says so? Merely brazen Goliath with his big mouth of Brag. “No longer safe from invasion.” Who says so? Goliath again! Our “supremacy of the seas is gone for ever!” Good old Goliath! Submarines and Zeppelins are to bring the invaders along as surely as weeds swept on the sand by the tide! Easier said than done! What says the old song?