A propos of the numerous benefits which the Yale and Cornell navies seem to be getting, it may be news to many students of the present day that Harvard once boasted as large, as fully manned and one may say a much more realistic navy than any of the establishments which now are in full swing among the two hundred colleges which are trying to teach the youthful mind how to shoot. Those Harvard students in the year 1776 who yearned after a nautical, or rather a piratical life and the salt of the ocean met together in that year and formed what was then called a "Navy Club." and later earned for itself the title of the "Harvard Navy." For some fourteen years it merely existed, but at the beginning of the century it suddenly sprang into prominance and continued in the full glory of its career until 1851, when it was abolished by the then president of Harvard College. All the members of the senior class who failed to receive commencement parts formed the society and were considered as able seamen before the mast and were headed by a "Lord High Admiral," or, as he was factiously dubbed, the "Lord High," who was chosen each year by his predecessor in that office, with much naval pomp and circumstance. The newly appointed admiral received his "sailing orders" from the same sourse, and entered into office immediately. He did not command any sailors however, until at the beginning of senior year, when commencement parts were given out, and he held office until after the annual cruise. This exemplary officer at first was the man who had been dismissed from the class the greatest number of times, but latterly, the position was given to the jolliest fellow in the senior class. As in all associations, the list of officers is a long one, so it was in the case of the "Navy," and the formidable list was headed next to the "Lord High" by the Vice Admiral, distinguished as the poorest scholar; the Rear Admiral, the laziest man of the class; the Chaplain of the fleet, the most profane; the Ensign, the best story teller, and last, but not least, the Boatswain, the most obscene. When the senior parts were announced and the happy recipients of parts filed to the president to receive them, the navy formed the guard of honor and escorted them about the yard with a band and all the officers rigged out in full naval regalia. The members of the club who had received parts were compelled to resign amid the most ludicrous ceremonies, and the unfortunate (?) ones stood up one after the other and addressed the crowd, while a man concealed by a cloak sat behind each one and made the appropriate gestures for him. All who refused to resign were expelled by the Admiral amid the hoots and howls of his fellow tars. An annual cruise wound up the year's festivities and was generally sailed in a tug-boat down Massachusetts bay to some headland, where all would disembark and have a chowder or fish dinner of some sort, the whole cruise lasting only three days and then the navy returned with state to Cambridge in a "barge." One year a large tent called the "Good Ship Harvard" was erected in the yard where Appleton Chapel now stands, arranged inside like a man-of-war, with crew quarters, Admiral's cabin, etc., and the marines were stationed as sentries at the entrance. The boatswain often summoned the crew of the "Harvard" by sounding his shrill whistle in front of Holworthy, then, as now, the senior's headquarters. Latterly the eligibility for "service" was much less strict and they even went so far as to admit men who had received commencement parts, but the true navy always consisted of those men who had never received a part, while the marines were those who had minor or second parts, and the horse marines, those who had major or first parts.

G. A. M., '87.