PERHAPS the widely-spread belief amongst our sailors in the existence of a sweet little cherub, whose peculiar mission it is to sit up aloft, and keep watch for the life of poor Jack, is one of the reasons why poor Jack takes such very little pains to keep watch for himself. He may consider it an unseamanlike action to interfere with the cherub; and, whatever be the reason, certain it is that if Jack were left to his own devices, the honest fellow would soon be sent to Davy Jones's locker. We are not thinking just at present of his perils ashore, although their name is Legion: a host of harpies spreading their traps for him. Circe, in the blowsiest shape she can assume, offers him her villanously-drugged cup, which changes him into a brute; and he is so beset by dangers, temptations, and evil allurements, that, on the whole, it is rather a good thing for him when, robbed of his last farthing, and retaining no other property than a pair of old trousers and a torn shirt, he is huddled, still scarcely sober, on board ship. As the vessel drops down the river, Jack is saved from his worst enemies. He may yet be ill-treated by his skipper, or may suffer from hunger or thirst, or may be shipwrecked; but these perils seem merely natural. As the huntsman said when the hounds ate him up, "it's all in the day's work." From fair stress of wind and weather we have no desire that Jack should ever be completely guaranteed. The risk and the toil are exactly the things that make him the fine manly fellow he is. The particular carelessness we are now contemplating, not for the first time, is the recklessness with which he incurs an unnecessary danger by not learning how to swim. It is simply disgraceful that if you were to upset half our "jolly tars" out of wherries o.n our rivers, they would not be able to reach the shore. It is bad enough to be drowned at all, but the mere pride of Jack ought to make him object to be drowned like a " lubber." One would imagine that a sailor who cannot swim would be like a dragoon who cannot ride, or a private with a wooden leg in a marching regiment; and we can easily imagine with what scorn even Jack himself would regard such ludicrously inefficient warriors.

The melancholy destruction of H.M.S.

Bombay by fire, within a few hours after she had left Montevideo, was certainly one of the saddest occurrences of 1864. Ninetyone lives were lost; and most of these might have been saved had the men known how to swim. The case was not like that of a sudden explosion; there was ample time for the majority of the crew to make their escape. It was at half-past three that the alarm of fire was given, and it was not until nearly half-past eight that the magazine blew up. Lieutenant CARR, who was present, says, " I am sure no man who could swim need have lost his life that day." The poor, confused, helpless creatures had not even the skill or the presence of mind to catch hold of the gear that was thrown overboard, which would have floated them in safety. Coupled with this case, we might mention the melancholy story of the cadets on board the training-ship Worcester.

Twenty of them were out sailing on the Thames last winter; the boat upset; ten were miserably drowned, whilst some of the survivors owed their safety to the courage of the few who could swim.

In all training-ships under Government control, as well as in the marine-barracks for recruits, there are, it appears, stringent instructions that swimming should be taught; and these instructions henceforth are to be carried out more strictly than ever.

We might state that the Worcester is a private enterprise; and STEPHEN CAVE, Esq., M.P., informs us, on behalf of that excellent institution, that the boys are taught to swim, and that none but swimmers are now allowed to go out boating.

Some six or seven years ago the Committee of the NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION first called special attention to the great neglect into which swimming had fallen amongst our sailors and fishermen.

Since that period great efforts have been made, and are now made, to remedy this crying evil.

It is not, however, of the sailors alone that we are now speaking. During the past summer season we read of melancholy deaths by the seaside, or on the rivers— of youngsters suddenly hurried out of existence ; of men who were seeking health, and only found a watery grave. The glorious weather tempted everybody to be either 'on the water or in it; and to English folks it really ought to matter very little which. But a single false step, an unknown fall in the beach, or a wave a little rougher than usual, may cost the non- swimmer his life, and the accidents on rivers are almost as numerous as those of the coast, not a season passing without many persons being drowned by the upsetting of boats. Every year aquatic sports become more and more popular amongst us, and we look upon that growing popularity as one of the healthiest signs of the times; but since almost any one can learn to swim well in a tithe of the time that it takes to learn to row, we hold it to be absolutely inexcusable for any boating man to be helpless- in the water. An outrigger, although a very delightful contrivance, can hardly be considered safe: it has many merits, but the merit of not being easily upset cannot be claimed for it; and no one ought to risk his life in such a craft unless he is " handy with his hands all round." Of course, we know that it is almost useless to preach to our young men about danger, and we are not altogether sorry for it; but what we would urge upon the nonswimmers is, that their conduct is, in the first place, unmanly; and in the second, imprudent. No one indeed has a right to hurt the feelings of his friends and family by stupidly getting drowned amongst a lot of nasty slimy weeds; whilst derision, equal to that incurred by the "butterfingers" who misses a catch at cricket, or' by the abject mortal who " catches'a crab " whilst rowing, ought to be the lot of every one who when his boat upsets can do nothing but fling his arms round like the sails of a windmill, and shout, until the water stops him, for the aid of better men than himself.