good in its day) to undergo his closing torture
by being examined in navigation. If he aspires,
however, to command a steamer, he must go
through a special examination at that same
college in the mysteries of steam. These
various provisions have made naval life (by the
general consent of her Majesty's loyal midshipmen)
a much more troublesome business than it
was twenty years ago. But the destinies are
inexorable, and the Admiralty cannot but imitate
them. After a certain amount of "plucking"
you are pronounced unfit for her Majesty's Ser-
vice, and turned loose, a bare biped, in the
world. (What would have become of Rubadub,
if his youth had fallen on these atrocious times?
A solemn thought!) On the other hand, our
friend is better off in important respects than
he would have been at the same age twenty
years ago. Promotion from mate (that is,
passed midshipman) to lieutenant, is more rapid
than it was. Employment as lieutenant is more
easily obtained than it was. "Interest" still
tells, of course. But the epoch is so serious,
and a rascally press so pertinacious, that even in
this ingrained abuse—the abuse of patronage—
signs of improvement appear. We have even
heard of Lords of the Admiralty being driven to
ask good officers to open the Navy List and
point out a capable man for the command of a
ship there, without any reference to his "interest"
whatsoever! Naval men have a kind
word for Sir John Pakington in this line. May
we live to see the day when such conduct will
not be thought remarkable!

All that the system of the training-ship wants,
is extension to the utmost convenient limits, so
that its full effects may be felt. We entertain
no doubt ourselves, from what we have seen and
heard of it, that it will prove of the veiy highest
benefit to the navy, and that the date of Captain
Harris's hoisting his pendant on board the Illustrious
will, by-and-by, prove to have been the
iuaiiguration of a new era in naval education.
But we are even more sanguine than this; and
we have notions on this same subject of naval
education which, if they should ever reach the
ears of Admiral Rubadub, will considerably
aggravate that veteran's gout. We want to see
not only navigation, gunnery, and such sciences
—including naval strategy and manÅ“uvring—
more thoroughly and universally known afloat,
but a degree of accomplishment reached, which
has hitherto only been talked of as something
afar off, in the most advanced circles. Many
duties, other than professional, devolve on naval
commanders—diplomatic, political, and social
duties, of the highest consequence. Fancy all
the delicate work belonging to the admiral or
senior squadron officer on the coast of Italy,
just now; or in China, just now; or in Central
America, among susceptible Yankees, bastard
Spanish republics, and occasional filibusters!
Difficulties are not to be met in these times by
mere headstrong Trunnion-isms, which might
compromise the peace of Europe. Ought not a
naval officer to know something of international
law—of public treaties—of the historical relations
of his own country with other countries,
for some generations back? Ought not he to
be capable of conducting an intricate negotiation,
either orally or with the pen? It is true
that there always have been, and that there still
are, some officers to whom all this knowledge
and ability may be justly attributed; not only,
however, are such men few, but they have
become what they were and are, totally
independent of professional encouragement in such
walks. Might not the authorities fairly recognise
studies such as we have alluded to, and
aim at their propagation by well-considered
measures? The natural time to take them up,
thoroughly, would be when the ordinary pro-
fessional course was run through—when the
midshipman had ripened into mate, and was ex-
pecting to be, or had just begun to be—
lieutenant. What if voluntary examinations were
instituted in these higher subjects for young
men from four or five-and-twenty to thirty, and
if proficiency were rewarded by early promotion
to commands? We must have younger men in
commands than we have had lately; and great
part of the invidiousuess of promotion would be
obviated by a judicious introduction of the
principle of competition. The navy is a generous
profession, and honours work; and anyway,
nothing can be more generally repulsive,
disheartening, and ignoble than favouritism.

Those who form their notions of sea-life from
the sea-novels of half a century since, will
probably smile at the idea of learned study afloat.
But on the whole—and we speak from some
personal experience—life on shipboard is very
favourable to reading. The long watches below,
the solitude of a cabin, even the quieter hours
of a berth or gunroom, admit of ample converse
with the books; and the hours quietly spent on
deck in the presence, at once soothing and
solemn, of the grand old sea itself, are equally
encouraging to him who would digest and
assimilate what books teach. But this is not all.
A naval officer enjoys many other advantages
favourable to his intellectual culture. He visits
some of the most important and attractive cities
of the world. He has access to the people best
worth knowing in them all. To-day, he is
anchored off a Greek island, where there has just
been dug up a handful of coins of the age of
Alexander. To-morrow, he smokes a pipe with
a pasha, who is secretly meditating a revolt
against the Sublime Porte. In a few weeks, he
will be carrying a British Minister on a special
mission. In a year or two, he will be opening
up an island in the Indian Archipelago to the
commerce of Europe. Nothing but the stupidest
misinterpretation of traditions can make out
such a career to be anything but essentially
intellectual, and worthy of all the culture and the
grace which can be brought to it by the widest
literary resources. If we are—as it is excusable
in us to believe—naturally superior to our naval
rivals, let our superiority now take this form.
The time is come for it to do so, and foreigners
are intensely anxious to see how we mean to
meet the new era. Once true, in the largest