Life for us on board this ship was commenced on a new basis. We were obliged to learn “manners.” Manners among modern youth have become almost obsolete. The etiquette and formality required from the younger to the elder, and common to the time of perukes and knee-breeches, has now little place save on shipboard, where such traditions and customs linger. We were surprised to find it our duty to say “Sir” to an officer, and also to find it imperative to recognize every order addressed us by the remark; “Aye, aye, sir!” The sullen, shambling fashion of receiving words addressed us in silence, so that the speaker was left in doubt as to whether he was heard or not, had no place off soundings. In short, we were obliged to practice what is not common now to many boys on shore--that is, an outward show of respect for superiors. If business called us to the “West End” of a ship, the quarter-deck, our place was to walk on the lee side of that deck and leave the weather side the moment the duty was done. If sent for any article by an officer, it was our business to find it without further recourse to him. Petted boys have little patience for hunting for things. At home two minutes is about the limit of time spent in looking for a mislaid poker, and then “Ma!” “Pa!” or “Aunt!” is called on to turn to and do this disagreeable work. The second mate once ordered me to find a certain iron hook, wherewith to draw the pump boxes, and when, after a short search, I returned and asked him where it might be I was horrified by the expression of astonished indignation spreading over his face as he yelled: “Great Scott, _he_ expects _me_ to help him find it!” I saw the point and all it involved, and never so wounded an officer’s dignity again. It is a sailor’s, and especially a boy’s business on shipboard, to find whatever he is ordered to. It must be produced--no matter whether it’s in the ship or not. At all events that’s the sentiment regarding the matter. But it is good discipline for boys over-nursed at home and only physically weaned. The “cold, cold world” would not, in some cases, be so cold to the newly-fledged youth first trying his feeble wings outside the family nest, did parents judiciously establish a little of this maritime usage at home. We soon learned on the _Wizard_ how well we had lived at home. Our sea fare of hard tack and salt junk taught us how to appreciate at their true value the broiled streaks, hot cakes, and buttered toast of home tables. The quart of very common molasses served out to us weekly soon became a luxury, and when the steward occasionally brought us “Benavlins” (the nautical term for the broken fragments from the cabin table), we regarded it as very luxurious living, though a month previous we should have deemed such food fit only for the swill-tub.