on's yachting. And, behold! it was a good article. To a man who had but little to do with pleasure sailing (though all sailing is a pleasure), and certainly nothing whatever with racing in op

roval of their performances; but, as far as any clear conception goes, the descriptive ph

very craft afloat would be ready to do. I am disposed to admire and respect the 52-foot linear raters on the wor

it is a means of livelihood - that it is, in his own words, an industry. Now, the moral side of an industry, productive or unproductive, the redeeming and ideal aspect of this bread-winning, is the attainment and preservation of the highest possible skill on the part of the craftsmen. Such skill, the skill of technique, is more than honesty; it is

rn. Efficiency of a practically flawless kind may be reached naturally in the struggle for bread. But there is something beyond - a higher point, a subtl

crafts of land and sea. The conditions fostering the growth of that supreme, alive excellence, as well in work as in play, ought to be preserved with a most careful regard lest the industry or the game should perish of an insidi

ense it may be admitted to be stronger than death, is by no means so universal and so sure. In fact, love is rare - the love of men, of things, of ideas, the love of perfected skill. For love is the enemy of haste; it takes count of passing days, of men wh

ervants of our creations. We remain in everlasting bondage to the productions of our brain and to the work of our hands. A man is born to serve his time on this earth, and there is something fine in the service bein

o the pitch of perfection. Every sort of demand is made upon the master of a sailing-yacht, and to be penalized in proportion to your success may