his trowsers, and the shape of his chako. He
passed his days in "trying on his things,"
and his evenings–––when not engaged at the
Casino, the Cider Cellar, or the Adelphi–––in
dining with his military friends at St. James's
Palace, or at Knightsbridge Barracks. In
their society he greatly improved himself,
acquiring an accurate knowledge of
lansquenet and ecarté, cultivating his taste for
tobacco, and familiarising his mind with that
reverence for authority which is engendered
by the anecdotes of great military
commanders that freely circulate at the mess-
table. His education and his uniform being
finished at about the same time, George
Spoonbill took a not uncheerful farewell of
the agonised Lady Pelican, whose maternal
bosom streamed with the sacrifice she made
in thus consigning her offspring to the vulgar
hardships of a marching regiment.

An express train conveyed the honourable
Ensign in safety to the country town where
the "Hundredth" were then quartered, and in
conformity with the instructions which he
received from the Assistant Military Secretary
at the Horse Guards–––the only instructions,
by the bye, which were given him by that
functionary–––he "reported " himself at the
Orderly-room on his arrival, was presented
by the Adjutant to the senior Major, by the
senior Major to the Lieutenant-Colonel, and
by the Lieutenant-Colonel to the officers
generally when they assembled for mess.

The "Hundredth," being "Light Infantry,"
called itself "a crack regiment:" the military
adjective signifying, in this instance, not so
much a higher reputation for discipline and
warlike achievements, as an indefinite sort of
superiority arising from the fact that no man
was allowed to enter the corps who depended
upon his pay only for the figure he cut in it.
Lieutenant-Colonel Tulip, who commanded,
was very strict in this particular, and, having
"the good of the service" greatly at heart,
set his face entirely against the admission of
any young man who did not enjoy a handsome
paternal allowance or was not the possessor
of a good income. He was himself the son of
a celebrated army clothier, and, in the course
of ten years, had purchased the rank he now
held, so that he had a right, as he thought,
to see that his regiment was not contaminated
by contact with poor men. His military
creed was, that no man had any business in
the army who could not afford to keep his
horses or tilbury, and drink wine every day;
that he called respectable, anything short of it
the reverse. If he ever relaxed from the
severity of this rule, it was only in favour of I
those who had high connections; "a handle
to a name" being as reverently worshipped
by him as money itself; indeed, in secret, he
preferred a lord's son, though poor, to a
commoner, however rich; the poverty of a sprig
of nobility not being taken exactly in a literal
sense. Colonel Tulip had another theory
also: during the aforesaid ten years, he had
acquired some knowledge of drill, and
possessing an hereditary taste for dress, considered
himself, thus endowed, a first-rate officer,
though what he would have done with his
regiment in the field is quite another matter.
In the meantime he was gratified by thinking
that he did his best to make it a crack corps,
according to his notion of the thing, and such
minor points as the moral training of the
officers, and their proficiency in something
more than the forms of the parade ground,
were not allowed to enter into his consideration.
The "Hundredth" were acknowledged
to be "a devilish well-dressed, gentlemanly
set of fellows," and were looked after with
great interest at country balls, races, and
regattas; and if this were not what a regiment
ought to be, Colonel Tulip was, he flattered
himself, very much out in his calculations.

The advent of the Hon. George Spoonbill
was a very welcome one, as the vacancy to
which he succeeded had been caused by the
promotion of a young baronet into "Dragoons,"
and the new comer being the second son of
Lord Pelican, with a possibility of being
graced one day by wearing that glittering
title himself, the hiatus caused by Sir Henry
Muff's removal was happily filled up without
any derogation to the corps. Having also
ascertained, in the course of five minutes'
conversation, that Mr. Spoonbill's "man" and
two horses were to follow in a few days with
the remainder of his baggage; and the young
gentleman having talked rather largely of
what the Governor allowed him (two hundred
a-year is no great sum, but he kept the actual
amount in the back ground, speaking
"promiscuously" of "a few hundreds"), and of his
intimacy with "the fellows in the Life
Guards;" Colonel Tulip at once set him
down as a decided acquisition to the
"Hundredth," and intimated that he was to be
made much of accordingly.

When we described the regiment as being
composed of wealthy men, the statement must
be received with a certain reservation. It was
Colonel Tulip's hope and intention to make it so
in time, when he had sufficiently "weeded" it,
but en attendant there were three or four
officers who did not quite belong to his favourite
category. These were the senior Major and
an old Captain, both of whom had seen a good
deal of service, the Surgeon, who was a
necessary evil, and the Quartermaster, who
was never allowed to show with the rest of
the officers except at "inspection," or some
other unusual demonstration. But the rank
and "allowance" of the first, and something
in the character of the second, which caused
him to be looked upon as a military oracle,
made Colonel Tulip tolerate their presence in
the corps, if he did not enjoy it. Neither had
the Adjutant quite as much money as the
commanding officer could have desired, but
as his position kept him close to his duties,
doing that for which Colonel Tulip took credit,
he also was suffered to pass muster; he was a