They are generally great consumers of Macassar oil and the Balm of Columbia; they thirst and rage after whiskers; and sometimes, applying their ointments, lay themselves out in the sun, to promote the fertility of their chins.
As the only way to learn to command, is to learn to obey, the usage of a ship of war is such that the midshipmen are constantly being ordered about by the Lieutenants; though, without having assigned them their particular destinations, they are always going somewhere, and never arriving.

In some things, they almost have a harder time of it than the seamen themselves.

They are messengers and errand-boys to their superiors.
"Mr.Pert," cries an officer of the deck, hailing a young gentleman forward.

Mr.Pert advances, touches his hat, and remains in an attitude of deferential suspense.

"Go and tell the boatswain I want him." And with this perilous errand, the middy hurries away, looking proud as a king.
The middies live by themselves in the steerage, where, nowadays, they dine off a table, spread with a cloth.