TWO HOURS ON THE MINNESOTA

From 7 to 9, aboard the United States school-ship Minnesota, lying up the North River. Captain Luce sent his gig for us about sundown, to the foot of Twenty-third Street, and receiv’d us aboard with officer-like hospitality and sailor heartiness. There are several hundred youths on the Minnesota to be train’d for efficiently manning the government navy. I like the idea much; and, so far as I have seen tonight, I like the way it is carried out on this huge vessel. Below, on the gun-deck, were gather’d nearly a hundred of the boys, to give us some of their singing exercises, with a melodeon accompaniment, play’d by one of their number. They sang with a will. The best part, however, was the sight of the young fellows themselves. I went over among them before the singing began, and talk’d a few minutes informally. They are from all the states; I asked for the Southerners, but could only find one, a lad from Baltimore. In age, apparently, they range from about fourteen years to nineteen or twenty. They are all of American birth, and have to pass a rigid medical examination; well-grown youths, good flesh, bright eyes, looking straight at you, healthy, intelligent, not a slouch among them, nor a menial—in everyone the promise of a man. I have been to many public aggregations of young and old, and of schools and colleges, in my day, but I confess I have never been so near satisfied, so comforted (both from the fact of the school itself, and the splendid proof of our country, our composite race, and the sample-promises of its good average capacities, its future), as in the collection from all parts of the United States on this navy training ship. (“Are there going to be any men there?” was the dry and pregnant reply of Emerson to one who had been crowding him with the rich material statistics and possibilities of some western or Pacific region.)

May 26. Aboard the Minnesota again. Lieut. Murphy kindly came for me in his boat. Enjoy’d specially those brief trips to and fro—the sailors, tann’d, strong, so bright and able-looking, pulling their oars in long side-swing, man-of-war style, as they row’d me across. I saw the boys in companies drilling with small arms; had a talk with Chaplain Raw-son. At 11 o’clock all of us gathered to breakfast around a long table in the great ward room—I among the rest—a genial, plentiful, hospitable affair every way—plenty to eat, and of the best; became acquainted with several new officers. This second visit, with its observations, talks (two or three at random with the boys), confirm’d my first impressions.