Pleasant is it to read of life on board a modern first-class man-of-war. Where there are, perhaps, thirty officers in the ward-room, it would be hard indeed if one cannot find a kindred spirit, while on such a vessel the band will discourse sweet music while you dine, and soothe you over the walnuts and wine, after the toils of the day, with selections from the best operas, waltzes, and quadrilles. Then comes the coffee, and the post-prandial cigar in the smoking-room. At sea, luncheon is dispensed with, and the regular hour is half-past two; but in port both lunch and dinner are provided, and the officers on leave ashore can return to either. Say that you have extended your ramble in the country, you will have established an appetite by half-past five, the hour when the officers’ boat puts off from shore, wharf, or pier. Perhaps the most pleasant evening is the guests’ night, one of which is arranged for every week, when the officer can, by notifying the mess caterer, invite a friend or two. The mess caterer is the officer selected to superintend the victualling department, as the wine caterer does the liquid refreshments. It is by no means an enviable position, for it is the Englishman’s conceded right to growl, and sailors are equal to the occasion. Dr. Stables remarks on the unfairness of this under-the-table stabbing, when most probably the caterer is doing his best to please. But on a well-regulated ship, where the officers are harmonious, and either not extravagant or with private means, the dinner-hour is the most agreeable time in the day. After the cloth has been removed, and the president, with a due preliminary tap on the table to attract attention, has given the only toast of the evening—“The Queen”—the bandmaster, who has been peering in at the door for some minutes, starts the National Anthem at the right time, and the rest of the evening is devoted to pleasant intercourse, or visits ashore to the places of amusement or houses of hospitable residents. Before leaving, for the nonce, the Royal Navy, its officers and men, a few facts may be permitted, particularly interesting at the present time. The navy, as now constituted, has for its main backbone fifty-four ironclads. There are of all classes of vessels no less than 462, but more than a fourth of these are merely hulks, doing harbour service, &c., while quite a proportion of the remainder—varying according to the exigencies of the times—are out of commission. There are seventy-eight steam gun-boats and five fine Indian troop-ships. These numbers are drawn from the official Navy List of latest date.