twinkling, while the air of the crowded room grew thick and stifling from the smoke of the forbidden tobacco.  One of the company would keep a sharp lookout for the possible advent of the sometimes rubber-shod passed midshipman doing police duty, and, if necessary, danger signals would be made from the basement story, by tapping on the steam-pipes, which signal would be repeated from room to room, and from floor to floor, generally in ample time for the young bacchanalians to disperse in safety.  If, perchance, the revelers got caught, they would stand up at the next evening’s parade and hear the offence and demerits accorded, read out in presence of the battalion, with an easy sang-froid that piqued the sea-worn experience of the oldsters while they marveled.  Let no one judge these lads too harshly, for the day came, all too soon, when they were to stand up in face of the enemy, and, with equally nonchalant but sterner courage, go into battle in defence of the flag they were being trained to defend, many winning undying honor and fame, some meeting untimely but heroic graves, in “the war that kept the Union whole.”

Our midshipmite soon became a favorite with all, from the gruff old superintendent down to the littlest new-comer at the school.  His bright, cheery, and genial disposition, and frank, hearty ways, were very winning, and if, in his studies, he did not take leading rank, nor become enraptured over analytics, calculus, and binomials, he was esteemed a spirited, heartsome lad of good stock and promise, bred to honorable purpose and aspiration, with seemingly marked aptitude for the noble profession, which, more than any other, calls for a heroism that never hesitates, a courage that never falters; for, aside from its special work of upholding and defending the flag, and all it symbolizes, on the high seas to the uttermost parts of the globe, “they that go down to sea in ships” come closer to the manifestations of the unspeakable might and majesty of Almighty Power than any other.  The seaman, with but a plank separating him from eternity, never knows at what moment he may be called upon to put forth all the skill and resource, the unflinching effort and sacrifice, that his calling ever, in emergency, unstintedly requires.

  “Where’er the surge may sweep, the tempest’s breath prevail,
  He searches all its stormy deep, its dangers all unveil.”

Of medium height, slight and trim of figure, clear complexion and piercing gray eyes of peculiar brilliancy, softened by a merry twinkle betokening latent mischief, young Perkins was a youth fair and interesting to look upon.  He walked with quick, elastic step, carried his head a little on one side, and had a habit, when anything struck his fancy pleasantly, of shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his hands together in a vigorous way, that seemed to declare in unmistakable terms that he was glad all over!

During one of the wonted summer cruises, he made himself somewhat famous at great-gun practice, the details of which are given in one of his home letters, as follows:—­