binnacle (or compass-box) in darkness, exactly what she requires of him. Now the mate of a sailing ship is placed in the most favourable position imaginable for cultivating such a science as ship-handling undoubtedly is. Unlike his compeer of a steamship, his first care is of his vessel's propelling machinery. That towering fabric of sails and cordage, which appears to a landsman's eye such a mass of intricate entanglement, requires his unceasing attention. His sight should be, and usually is, keen as a hawk's, able to note even from the deck anything that goes wrong. He must nurse his ship tenderly, especially aloft, bearing in mind before all things the homely adage of the stitch in time. No loose ends, frayed seizings, or chafed running gear (as the ropes are called which are hauled upon in distinction to those which are tightened and remain stationary) must be neglected, since such neglect may be fatal and in any case must be expensive. Of course in large ships, according to the universal rule, his labours are somewhat lightened, since he will have a boatswain, whose chief duty is to keep things in order under the mate's supervision, and who must keep careful watch over things aloft and report to his superior. But where no boatswain is carried the mate must see to things himself. The practice varies in different ships slightly, according to the idiosyncrasy of the master, but perhaps the ideal relation between master and mate is where the master, in consultation with the mate, keeps in touch with everything that is going on, never interfering in public with the everyday work of the ship. To use a homely simile, the master should be like the lady of the house and the mate the housekeeper. I think this will appeal to ladies, who know that, while nothing is more beneficial in a great household than the knowledge by all that the mistress knows everything that is going on, so nothing is more fatal to the efficient working of such a household than the incessant, fussy interference of the mistress with individual servants behind the housekeeper's back. The self-respecting and competent housekeeper would leave, of course; but the mate cannot. He must endure as best he can. Naturally this theory of non-interference presupposes that the mate is up to his work. Where he is not, it becomes essential to every one's well-being that the master should take the direction of things out of his incompetent hands. But no one would be more ready to admit than masters themselves that such drastic measures are rarely necessary. The incompetent mate rarely reaches the position, or, reaching it by favouring accident, long retains it.