as to whether or not he will be able to purchase
his future steps? But above all, may not a young
man commence his military career with every
prospect of being able to get on by purchase,
and does it not often happen that owing to the
misfortunes of himself or his relatives, or to
the dishonesty of agents or others, the money
with which he hoped to advance his prospects
is swept away? The writer has seen a score of
such incidents during his military career, and
remembers one instance where an officer
commanding a cavalry regiment—a man in the
prime of life—lost a heavy lawsuit, and was
obliged to sell out of the army, since, according to
this most disgraceful law of England, his
commission was a marketable commodity, and had
to be sold like so much bank stock.

Two or three years after he first met Messrs.
Smith and Johnstone in India, the writer became
acquainted, during a sojourn of some months at
Paris, with a young Frenchman, whom he will
call M. Dufour, and owing to circumstances not
necessary to detail, a very intimate friendship
was struck up between them. Dufour was at that
time about twenty-two years of age, he had been
well educated, but had no profession, his sole
occupation being what our neighbours call "de
manger la grenouille" (eating the frog), which,
translated into slang English, means "out-
running the constable," or getting rid of his
money as fast as possible. In a very short time
he announced that his private fortune of about
four thousand pounds English money, which
he had inherited some two years from his father,
had dwindled down to the modest sum of three
hundred. On being asked what he intended
doing for the future, he replied that he would
enlist as a volunteer in a cavalry regiment. The
writer tried hard to persuade him that a barrack-
room was no place for one who had been brought
up as he had been, and tried hard to induce him
to embrace some other career: the more so as he
avowed that he had no interest whatever to push
him on in the service. He carried out his intention,
and enlisted for the Chasseurs d'Afrique,
and went his way to join that corps in Algiers.

For three or four years he was lost sight of,
until he and the writer met by accident one day in
the streets of Marseilles. He told how he had been
promoted in a year after he joined, to the rank of
corporal, in two years more to that of sergeant,
and then—for good conduct in the field—had
received the Legion of Honour and his commission
of sub-lieutenant (what we should call
cornet) in a regiment of hussars, which he was
on his way to join in the north of France.
He showed the official record of his services
and his conduct, which were highly creditable;
but said at the same time that the French
military authorities were anxious to encourage
young men of respectable families to join the
army as volunteers, and that all such who did
so, and behaved well in the service, were
certain to get on. He is now—some twelve years
only, after joining the army as a private soldier—
a chef d'escadron (corresponding to our rank
of major) in a lancer regiment, and expects
very shortly to receive his promotion as lieutenant-
colonel. Unlike any English officer
holding that rank, he has not paid seven or
eight thousand pounds for his various steps, but
has received them as the reward of putting forth
all his energies in the profession he embraced.
Where would a young Englishman be now, who,
without money or interest, enlisted twelve years
ago as a private dragoon? If he behaved
exceedingly well, he might be a sergeant or
sergeant-major; perhaps, by extraordinary good
luck, he might have obtained his commission as
cornet. But without money to purchase, of
what use would a cornetcy be to him? Better
for him to remain in the ranks as a
private soldier, than to have every junior officer
who can command money, pass over his head.
There are several middle-aged cornets and
lieutenants now serving in the English army, who
obtained their promotion from the rank of
sergeant or sergeant-majors to that of officers, some
years before the lieutenant-colonel commanding
their regiments entered the service as cornets or
ensigns. But then the latter had money, whereas
they had none, and in the English army money
is of far more importance than any professional
character or experience whatever. The best
soldier that ever wore a sword, without money must
never hope for promotion in the British army.*

* See The Regimental Market, No. 293, p. 325,
vol. xii. of Household Words.

It is said that the Duke of Cambridge, who, in
the four years he has been Commander-in-Chief,
has done more for the good of the service than the
whole previous century had witnessed, is
determined by degrees to abolish the system of
promotion by purchase in the English army. It is
devoutly to be hoped that this is true, and that
he will therein create for himself a great name
and an enduring title to the gratitude and
respect of his country.

THE GOOD CALIPH OF BAGDAD.

PLAY away, little Miss Litz, at that antiquated
piece of music discovered in your grandmamma's
morocco-bound collection, and the which your
mamma (the more modern works of Cramer, and
Chopin, and Thalberg non obstante) insists upon
your practising for love of the dear old lady gone,
her mamma, who used to make her practise the
piece ever so many years ago. Let your light
fingers prance nimbly over the keys and make
them tuneful with the hackneyed yet pleasant
old harmonies of the "Caliph of Bagdad." Did
they not resuscitate the Caliph lately as an
"operatic burletta " at a London theatre? Poor
old ghost! it were better to have left him to
vanish "with a melodious twang" into the
sepulchre of the harpsichord and the spinet. But
you, dear little Miss Litz, may evoke the phantom
and shock none. I love the old, worn-out,
"melodious twang" dearly; for I have been out
and about in Bagdad; I have seen him—seen
him in his golden prime, the GOOD CALIPH
HAROUN ALRASCHID.