were in their hands, and now and again
they were compelled to defend their
precious despatch-boxes against alarming
odds; but then they had compensating
advantages. They knew everybody
everywhere. The best bins in the best cellars in
Europe were open to them. The greatest
cooks were charmed to exercise the utmost
resources of their art in behalf of these
delightful captains. Bright eyes smiled
upon them; they had more opportunities
for flirtation than any other class of men
in the world. And then they had the
additional advantage of being unable, owing
to the requirements of F.O., to stay long
enough in any one place to be bored by its
pleasures.

Of course as time passed on, our more
extravagant views of life in the diplomatic
service gradually toned down, and
we began to perceive that Queen's
messengers, attachés, and even ambassadors,
were but mortal; and that it was not
unlikely that they might occasionally be
troubled by some of the ills that flesh
is heir to. But it never occurred to us
that the diplomatic service and hardship
might be convertible terms. An economical
embassy, an attaché compelled to go
to market and to look closely after the petty
cash, a legation in difficulties in the matter
of house rent, a chargé d'affaires entering
into elaborate calculations in regard to cab
fares, were phenomena not provided for in
our philosophy. Without overwhelming
testimony we should have declined to
believe in a state of things so heartrending.
Unfortunately the testimony is now before
us, unimpeachable, printed and presented to
both houses of parliament by command of
Her Majesty, and is contained in the recent
"Reports from Her Majesty's Representatives
respecting the British and Foreign
Diplomatic Services." Throughout these
reports, which are, as a whole, ably written,
and which contain much interesting and
valuable information, there runs a moan of
lamentation. Salaries described as never
having been excessive, are becoming
woefully insufficient. Prices are rising
everywhere. Nobody can live upon his pay
anywhere. From Persia to Paris, from Central
America to Coburg, from Berlin to Buenos
Ayres, it is the same. Destitution stares
our diplomatist in the face.

Here, in Buenos Ayres, our attachés
have to live in a little house, hardly large
enough for two, in most uncomfortable
fashion. Their average monthly expenses
for rent (the little house is let at the
modest figure of three hundred and twelve
pounds a year), kitchen expenses, light,
fuel, washing, and wages, are, for the one
gentleman forty-four, and for the other,
thirty-four pounds. No cordon-bleu attends
to the modest diplomatic kitchen. No
eXtravagant bills of fare account for this large
housekeeping bill. One dish of meat, and
one of eggs or vegetables, with the domestic
tea or coffee, is not a very elaborate breakfast;
dinner, consisting of soup, one dish
of meat, one dish of vegetables, and a
sweet, the whole washed down by vin
ordinaire, is a simple repast. From their
estimate of monthly expenses the two
gentlemen who partake of these frugal
meals have omitted "numerous indispensable
items of daily necessity" to wit,
coach and horse hire, and similar small
matters. And coaches in Buenos Ayres
are a formidable consideration. Four
shillings and twopence per fare (answering
probably to the French course), and double
that amount per hour, is a terrific tariff
for a cab, especially in face of the fact that
after rain the streets are impassable on
foot. Buenos Ayres must be altogether a
trying place to reside in. Gas is dear and
bad; coals cost five pounds per ton; the
prices of all things— so says one of the
oldest English commercial inhabitants of
the city— have doubled during the last
twenty years, with the exception of house-
rent, and that has increased threefold.
To the commercial population this increase
may matter little, as the augmented
expense is attributed largely to the complete
change in the habits of the people, caused
by the growing prosperity of the country
subsequent to the fall of Rosas in 1852,
and the great stimulus given to trade by
the rise in the value of its produce during
the Crimean war. But to an unpaid
attaché, or to a poorly-salaried secretary,
the difference is of considerable importance;
and five hundred and fifty pounds
a year seems a good deal to have to pay for
the honour of being unpaid attaché to the
British Legation in Buenos Ayres!

The same lucrative post in Rio de Janeiro
costs its economical holder at least six
hundred pounds a year; and if prices go on
rising as they have done of late years,
there seems no reason why double that
sum should not be considered a fair rate of
living for a single man in a little time.
Here again, however, it is probable that
the rise in prices is owing to the increase
of trade and the spread of luxury, and that
nobody suffers much but those unfortunates
who have to live on fixed incomes. Indeed,
of the English residents who furnish