of the camp, and gradually sink step by
step.

Nor, until the circular of Lord Longford was
issued last week, could the condition even of the
women "married with leave" be deemed desirable.
They were "on the strength" to be sure.
The ladies of the regiment looked after them:
there were schools for their children, medical
assistance, and opportunities for adding to the
husbands' scanty means, by such labour as
willing hands and anxious hearts can execute. Yet
how were they housed? From four to six men
with their wives and children stowed away in
a narrow hut, without means for privacy or even
for decency. A little curtain, when it could be
obtained, nominally screened off bed from bed.
Efforts were made to alleviate the shames and dis-
comforts of the married soldiers' life, but in vain.
The want of a separate room for each family
frustrated the most zealous Christian interference.

But the Horse Guards' circular makes marriage
a prize for service and good conduct. Seven
men out of every hundred, rank and file, can
now obtain permission to marry, provided they
have each served in the army for seven years,
and obtained, at least, one good-conduct badge.
Seven in every hundred is about the proportion
of those who at present marry, with and without
leave, together. The wife will have, if possible,
a separate room in camp or barracks; she will
receive light, fuel, and rations at the cost of the
state; but what may be more important than all,
she will be under the eye of the ladies of the
garrison. By this arrangement wives will be a
help rather than an encumbrance to their husbands.
Marriage becomes a reward, not a military
crime, and marriage "without leave," and
all its attendant miseries, will be to a great
extent prevented. More than one-half of the
sergeants in a regiment may at once marry with
leave, and become entitled to these privileges.

Many improvements have been effected in
the soldier's condition within the last few
years, but none likely to be attended with more
beneficial effects upon the morals of the troops
than this. The addition of twopence and three–
pence per day to the soldier's wage virtually
doubles all he had before to spend or save. His
barracks are constructed now, on approved sanitary
principles; his clothing, food, and opportunities
for education are excellent. He has his
recreation-rooms, reading-rooms, and regimental
gardens. The troop-ships, constructed specially
to convey him to our colonies and dependencies,
are magnificent models of naval architecture;
and henceforth, in the hour of trial, his arm
will not be unnerved by the bitter thought that
his wife and children are waifs and strays tossed
about upon the cold waters of the world's charity.

A trained soldier is an expensive article. He
costs the state, before he is fitted to face an
enemy, from one hundred to one hundred and
forty pounds. It is economy to consider his
health and comfort. Soldiers cannot be
manufactured in a day, and our small army must
make up in vigour and spirit for its deficiency in
numbers. Statesmen have at last discovered
that a soldier is a man, and not a machine. He
is permitted at last, "if well conducted," to assist
the husbandmen in gathering in the harvest,
and to breathe the pure country air, while
adding to his little store by manly and pleasant
labour. He will not be the less valiant in the
field because he is treated as a human being.

THREE GOOD DOGS

EVERY dog has his day; some dogs have
two days: one, the short span of canine life,
the other, the more enduring existence of fame.
M. Emile Richebourg has just collected a number
of the latter into an amusing volume, entitled
Histoire des Chiens Célèbres. Some
publisher, doubtless, will soon give this, entire,
to the public in an English dress; meanwhile,
we introduce our readers to three only of his
celebrated dogs.

Bandjarra is the name of a race of people
who, although few in number, are met with all
over India. Dealing in corn, they travel much
from place to place. Their resources are very
limited, and their temporary dwellings of the
simplest construction. On a plot of ground
a few feet square, in the midst of a forest,
and generally on an eminence, the Bandjarra
settler fixes his residence during a portion of
the year. Sacks full of wheat, covered with
skins, constitute the walls of his mansion;
other skins, suspended from branches, form a
roof which imperfectly keeps out wind and rain.
Beneath this tent are herded the oxen, which
are the Bandjarra's principal wealth. His dog
keeps ceaseless watch outside. The Bandjarra
dog is not remarkable for any external grace or
beauty; but it would be difficult to find a
creature gifted with greater courage, keener
instinct, or firmer attachment to his master.

A Bandjarra of the name of Dabi happened
to require the loan of a thousand rupees with
which to undertake a speculative journey. All
the persons to whom he applied, having little
faith in his promise, met the request with a
refusal. He had a dog called Bheirou, whom he
loved better than he could tell. After long
hesitation, he resolved to offer this dog as a
pledge. His first attempts were unavailing,
but he found at last a rich merchant named
Dhyaram who accepted the conditions. Dabi
promised to return within a year. He bade
adieu to Bheirou, commanding him by words
and signs to remain faithful during that
period to his temporary master. The dog did his
duty in every respect; but more than a twelvemonth
elapsed, and yet no news came of Dabi.
The merchant began to believe that he was
cheated, and to repent of his over-credulity.
At that time the Bandjarra country was much
infested by thieves. One dark night the household
was suddenly aroused by Bheirou's violent
and angry barking. Dhyaram got up. A band
of robbers were trying to force their way into
his dwelling. Before he had time to set about
repulsing them, Bheirou had attacked a couple
of the gang. He threw them down and tore them.
A third advanced to strike Dhyaram; the dog