ANGELIQUE DE RENE. "You are a silly, Baptiste; why must she fall in love with any man? "Because she could not very well fall in love with a woman, good wife; did you do it?" Baptiste, you are a very idiot. "Then unfit to decide on this momentous question-so let us send for Angelique and hear what she says. Angelique"-and he called so loud that she came running down the creaking old stairs, making them groan and grumble as if they hated her for not being as antediluvian as themselves. "Oui, mon pere"-but her light step seemed spell-bound, as her eye fell on José. "Angelique," it was the old lady who spoke. "Angelique, you are a sinful child, you have listened to the words of that bad youth; tell him to begone, and trouble you no more." But Angelique told him nothing of the sort; she did not speak, but her eye just wandered in search of her father, and, in wandering, for one moment rested on the face of José as he leant against the wall, so silent and so sad-and tears dimmed those blue orbs as they met his, and a look passed from them which said "fear not, José, I will never say that-fear not, José." "Come, Angelique, speak and say as your mother bids, or if your silly child's heart smarts at that saying-why say something else; but speak, child, at Bid Monsieur de Qutteville go or stay; any rate. Come hither, my child, and say what shall he do?" Mon pere" but she could get no further mon pére" "Well" "What? to go?" "No, oh no, not that mon pére." "To stay, then ?" She hid her face on her father's shoulder. "Here, monsieur," he said, as he placed the trembling hand of Angelique in that of José-"here, I only give the hand, the heart, I see, you have taken already. Value it, Monsieur, as it deserves to be valued, and then old Baptiste will never regret the day when José de Quetteville sought and won the pearl, Angelique. Now, good wife, 'tis no use scolding, just take it well. We could not expect her to live always with us, here, in the old house. Kind will to kind.' Love goes forward, not back; so take it well-take it well!" Angelique and José then were, as it is termed, engaged;" but they were not to be married for many a long mouth. Madame was resolute on this point. "Not for one whole year, Monsieur. Leave her to me one more year; you will then have her all your life besides." Thus, therefore, was it to be. One whole year. People talk of time as if they could order the events of time. Little thought the assembled group of that room, that ere the year had passed, or even half that year, a large and warlike force 649 | should reach the island, and carry fear and trembling misery where happy peace crewhile had dwelt. Yet, so it was. Scarcely three moons had passed before Du Guesclin, with his glittering band of warriors stood before the Castle of Gouray. We have noticed how bravely that castle was defended, but we did not tell of one, among that little band of soldiers, who was foremost in each attack, first to brave each startling danger. That one was José de Quetteville. Angelique, my life, my own love, you would not have me a poltroon. Look up, sweet one, and bid me from your side. Should José be dallying here when his companions are armed and belted to repel the foe. Angelique, I were unworthy of thec could it be so." She hung on his arm, as she looked into his face, "José, you will take care of your dear life, for the sake of poor Angelique." He kissed his answer, as with an almost waver. ing heart he tore himself from her. Day after day brought but increased anxiety, for the French carried on the warfare fiercely, and the garrison of Gouray held death to be preferable to submission. Then it was that a horrid whisper floated on the air, and that whisper included the fearful name of "famine." Now poor Angelique sobbed, and prayed, and sobbed again, as she listened to the sad rumour. When the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang in the clear air, her heart was sore and weary, for she thought of José-there, in that old fortress, starving-dying, perchance; and if it had not been for this sad warfare, he might have been beside her, walking in the sunshine and listening to the birds; and when the night came she still thought of him, and trembled at the fate which she fancied might be his. But one sorrow only gave way for another. Famine, as we have elsewhere remarked, did what the soldiers of Du Guesclin could not do-compelled the little garrison to capitulate. We have mentioned the terms of capitulation. José de Quetteville was named as one of their hostages. Angelique could not understand all these questions of terms and hostages, but she understood one thing, poor child!-that José was going away from her, with those horrible soldiers, who had been doing so much mischief, causing so much misery; and the thought almost broke her heart. He will never come back," she said, "never, never!" They told her that he would, that he must; but she shook her head, and did not believe them. The French troops were withdrawn, and José went with them, and Angelique was alone. Day by day her cheek became paler and thinner, and her eyes looked so large and unnaturally bright with eagerness and anxiety. Her parents saw how she was suffering, and even Madame now, would have given all she had to recall José. But it was too late. Weak, and pale, and ill, Angelique could only | her-her ghastly face and blood-stained dress— be carried from the grim old house to the neigh- she read at a glance her child's fate. bouring field, from whence the sea, and, on a clear day, the coast of France was visible. There she would lie, thinking of José-of him, and him only. She was lying thus one day-so sad and desolate-when she noticed, or thought she noticed, something on the distant horizon, which looked like a fleet of ships. Her father was standing beside her, and she pointed out what she observed to him. "Can it be, that England's king has, indeed, sent his squadron to our aid? Pray heaven it be so, mon pêre." Baptiste was afraid of encouraging hopes which might be disappointed; so he rather discouraged the idea. The cheek of his child became paler as he spoke; and he felt almost inclined to give false hopes, rather than none. All night long they watched her feeble breathing and when the doctor who had tended her came, they looked on his face as a page of destiny which they would scan-and scan, and read-a black page of destiny, with hopelessness, and grief, and bereavement only too plainly written. She lingered until the morning, and then she sank into her long and peaceful slumber But now wild shouts of joy ring on the air, nearer and nearer they come, telling so sadly in that old house. Nearer-and nearer still-up to the very door-those mocking shouts! Monsieur Baptiste! Mademoiselle! Great news-a rescue--from England! Monsieur José is even now returning to greet ye all again.” "To greet ye all!" To greet death and sorrow. To see the bright face he had dreamt of as smiling her glad welcome, pale, and cold, and still. To listen for the dear young voice, and hear nothing but his own as he wildly called on her: this was Nay, mon pêre, let me rest here a little the fate of José de Quetteville-the fate which longer, the evening is so warm." The daylight was now fading fast, as fast as the light of life in that fair girl. "But the air is becoming chill, Angelique, and that cough that frightful cough. I would carry you in at once, my darling-at once, Angelique.” But she pleaded for one quarter of an hour longer-only one quarter of an hour. How often does the "only one" in life destroy, or injure, or mar!-thus was it now. While they had been speaking dark clouds had risen from the horizon, dark and storm-charged clouds, which now began to fall in large and heavy drops. Angelique let me take thee in my arms quickly, my dear child; this heavy rain will soak through thy light clothing. Angelique-my old limbs are ingrate to me now, not to move more quickly with so dear a burthen. Angelique-my dear one. Oh, that fearful cough." And well it might be called "fearful;" for the paroxysm almost choked her. Her father stopped. The rain was pouring down in torrents; but there was another torrent now more dreadful than the rain, on which the wretched father's eyes were fixed. A crimson stream came from the young girl's mouth, falling over the pearly chin, the neck, the dress, the hands-slowly, like some insidious reptile, creeping thence, and dragging the weak life in its trail. And her dim eyes!-dim from exhaustion-fixed first on the distant sea, then turned to her father's face. "Angelique!" and he tried to lift her in his arms again, and carry her towards her home; but the movement only made the dull red stream the larger. Still, to keep her there in that drenching shower was certain death; to take her on scarcely less certain death: destruction in either path! Nerving himself to the utmost he once more raised her in his arms, and at length reached the house. Her mother was watching, waiting, looking anxiously for her, and as she caught a glimpse of war had given him. And at last he came. He knew there was something wrong-something sadly amiss; but he did not know the truth; none had the heart to tell him that; so he went to the old house-went up the old stairs-went into the chamber of his promised bride-and there she lay before him, a smile on her sweet face even in death; but the wild rose must have come and claimed its blush again, for it was not on her pale cheek-that was as pale as marble. Years passed on, but Angelique was not forgotten. Deep lines grew in the faces of her poor old parents-lines of sorrow as well as age. And José! he could no longer bear to live without her, so he left the island, and sought occupation-distraction, in England. In the reign of Henry VI., Mount Orgueil Castle, through the treachery of its governor, and at the instigation of Margaret of Anjou, was given up to a Frenchman, the Count de Maulevrier, who, undertaking to espouse the failing fortunes of the English king, received this guerdon as his recompense. He was, however, but badly received in Jersey; his authority disputed, his government disliked. After six years he was driven thence, to the evident joy of the inhabitants, who recognised in Sir Richard de Harlestan (the emissary of the succeeding monarch, Edward IV.) their welcome deliverer from a thraldom which had become too irksome for endurance. In the reign of Edward VI. the French made another unsuccessful attempt, to conquer Jersey, and landing at Boulay Bay, on its northern coast, were easily and quickly repulsed. Elizabeth of England, with her customary energy and forethought, on her accession to the throne, seems to have directed her attention peculiarly to the defences of Jersey. At her desire, the fortress of Mount Orgueil was inspected, TOUCHING THE ARMY. and being pronounced untenable, from the very fact of its being commanded by the adjacent hill, a new site for a castle was sought and found on the rock in St. Aubin's Bay, where stood the remains of the old Abbey of St. Helier. There, in obedience to the Queen's orders, the new building was erected, or rather the erection was commenced, for it was not completed until the reign of Charles II., in 1670. This is the Castle which, taking its name from its foundress, is now called Elizabeth Castle; it defends the harbour completely on the one side, while Fort Regent commands it on the other. In 1650, Charles II., together with his brother James, resided for some time in Elizabeth Castle. He made several alterations and improvements in the jurisdiction of the island; he organised the militia, forming them into separate regiments, instead of leaving them as they had been organised, in independent parochial companies, and he granted the islanders a small duty on spirits, to enable them to build or improve the harbour of St. Helier. 651 Jersey, at that time, was very loyal, and the monarch was looked on with reverence, received with affection. Unlike himself, he seems to have merited this affection, for we are told that he left"a fair and favourable character" in the island. The French still at times made various attacks, but these seem to have diminished in importance, until they finally ceased in 1781. This was the date of the last invasion Jersey had to withstand. After this year the inhabitants were left in peace to till their land, and improve their island. From this date the history becomes uneventful. Warfare had ceased, for the peace of 1793 placed us on a more friendly footing with France, and hence all aggression from that quarter was over. But, although external hostility was past, internal discord prevailed. The Governors of the island instituted arbitrary and upopular measures, at which the inhabitants murmured; but these dissensions, being merely local, were, although harassing to those engaged in them, trifling and unimportant in their nature. TOUCHING THE ARMY. Ir has been said by carping foreigners that, despite our widely spread supremacy on land and sea, we are not "a military nation;" and, while deploring our misfortunes, we must have owned often that they resulted in our shortcomings in this respect. We do not assert that our soldiers are deficient in gallantry, or all our generals in mind. We do not for a moment imagine, with the memories of Alma, Inkermann, and Sebastopol thick upon uswith the heroism of the gallant Havelock staring us in the face-if we may be pardoned the use of a strong figure--that the old Fatherland is incapable of producing gallant soldiers and keeneyed generals to vie with the best blood of olden times. But we do say that the whole system of our army is "rotten at the core ;" though, indeed, we have seen in some cases, never to be forgotten, that it is as "a goodly apple," fair to look upon, even while evil influences are undermining its strength, and sapping its very vitals. To the Purchase System we would especially point, as the unworthy relic of a bygone time when commissions were sold to aristocratic children crying in their cradles-when, as a veritable legend of Joe Miller informs us, it was possible for a young gentlemen of four years of age to hold a commission in His Majesty's service higher than that allowed to a grey-headed veteran who had seen a hundred fights. That "right merry jest" of Joe Miller is paralleled by the pay of young Napoleon, in the French Guards, who is always absent on leave with his family. Times have indeed changed since that interesting episode in the noble lordling's life; but still that system, though greatly modified, flourishes in spite of common sense and common justice. Merit, with the exception of some few isolated instances, is no match for Mammon at the Horse Guards. Gold is more prompt than steel-family interest than tried services; and so, from day to day, we hear of men serving their country for long, weary years-say twenty-three, as in the case of heroic Havelock-as subalterns, while the Hon. Augustus Fitznoodle is a general, who has spent his time pleasantly at a London club, innocent of gunpowder and unacquainted with any grape," save that of the vine. Ought these things so to be? Ought the deserving officer, because he is poor, to rauk below the idle and inefficient officer, because he is rich? Ought there to be a golden key to military distinction? should the portals of Glory be deaf to the "open-sesame" of all comers who cannot show a long purse, and a good credit at Cox and Greenwood's ? We "No!" is the response of every right thinking man; and "No!" will be reiterated till the whole system of promotion by purchase, with its concomitant heartaches for the deserving, and indulgences for the incompetent, be swept away. saw in the Crimean war how officials bungled, and commanders blundered; we talked then of putting "the right man in the right place," and-didn't. We heard of green coffee being sent out to the Crimea without mills to grind it-of hospitals without drugs, and doctors without discretion; of that terrible lazar-house at Scutari, where, in the words of Holy Writ, our "people perished like sheep for lack of knowledge"-and yet that modern Moloch-Routine-at whose shrine, over and over again, Red Tape has immolated so many of England's best and bravest, still sits paramount in Whitehall. We are now engaged in the great struggle of civilisation against barbarism. The dark places of the earth," says the Psalmist, "are full of cruelty"—and sadly do we think upon Cawnpore. Still, day by day, do we see young gentlemen paying £150 for the honour of serving the Queen, and being shot through the head, as ensigns in H.M. service. Still, day by day, do we hear of other young gentlemen burning to avenge their butchered countrymen, and to distinguish themselves-men, perhaps, with every qualification for such work-doomed to sigh away their energies and indignation together here at home, because, forsooth, they wish to serve their country, and the Horse Guards authorities demand, ere the gratification of such wish-£150 sterling! The system of purchase is a bete noir to every man willing to enter the army, but lacking adequate means to push his promotion, should he buy his first commission. The comparatively poor, however talented, young gentleman knows that, even though he could purchase an ensigney, he would, under the present system, be a Tantalus in a red coat all his life; he would associate with gentlemen-he is a gentleman himself; he would see the man, who yesterday ranked below him, promoted over his head by purchase to-morrow; and thus the life of such an one would be one sad story, so common now-a-days as wellnigh to pall upon John Bull's ear, of self-denial and self-contempt. To the rustic aspirant after military laurels-to the lowly born youth who leaves the plough to follow the drum-this system is a cruel injustice also. The height of the ambition of the latter must generally stop with the envied rank of serjeant-major- that rank he may reach by untiring energy, good conduct, and well directed ability. He may know regimental drill better than any adjutant; he may be decorated with medals; he may have looked death in the face many times without flinching, but seldom is such an one promoted to be a commissioned officer; and, if he be, he has no money -he cannot purchase further, and is therefore subjected to the constantly recurring mortification of seeing beardless boys, fresh from their mothers' apronstrings, placed over his head, because their papas can purchase for them that which he cannot buy with his own gallant blood. Napoleon told us long ago that we were a "nation of shopkeepers" we are. We set up a golden calf, and there is no lack of worshippers. We make everything venal. We sell the cure of souls-we advertise in our journals the sale of "next presentation" to "valuable livings, incumbent aged 80," etc., etc.; we believe in quack medicines-we sell them, or buy them; we sell to the aspirant for military fame, and the delight of strutting in scarlet, a commission; we pocket the money, and prate of our patriotism. We are, moreover, inconsistent, even to absurdity. We see veterans in the streets, and carpet knights in high places; we bungle over that which is, and imagine that which is not. We allow a sense of false security to lull our armies to sleep in India; we see the torch lighting-theu lighted; we look on with folded hands, till the panic comes, and the avenger is abroad in the land. Then we institute a day of universal humiliation, and pray bitterly in our sorrow to our All-merciful Father to help us, who, in our blindness, would not help ourselves. The dust of many years' neglect of right, and encouragement of wrong, lies at our door. Common sense will, let us hope, sweep it away; for, in truth, just now it behoves us to "set our house in order." But we are running on too fast perhaps. We shall be asked, what we propose. We shall answer, in the first place, the abolition of promotion by purchase in any rank. Of course, with reference to those officers now holding commissions obtained by purchase, the promotion of others, by merit solely, would, in a pecuniary sense, be an injustice, unless provided for. That such provision ought to be made is reasonable; that the system, whereunder such officers obtained purchased commissions, ought to be abolished, is equally so. Again, we would wish to see the army-the Army-and nothing more. We would not have it a school for idle and dissipated young men to learn how quickly debt can be contracted, or money spent. It should be the profession of a life, which it would be, if it were truly a profession, whereby alone a gentleman could live, and not the recreation of a few years. We are aware that great reductions have been made in mess expenditure of late, and that the officer's pay has been raised; but we also know that, even now, it is difficult for a subaltern to live upon his pay; and absurd, without reference to a few exceptions, if without money, or great family interest, to expect to rise by merit solely, when Mammon stands as a grim barrier between men and the objects of ambition. The recruiting serjeant tells his auditors that each, should he enlist, is "certain of coming back an officer." Do they believe him? They would in France. The walls at the Horse Guards are placarded with offers of bounty to men enlisting, and a promise to the effect that, whenever any of them attains the rank of commissioned officer, he will be presented by the Queen, if in the infantry, with £100, if in the cavalry, with £150, to purchase his new outfit. And Hodge, with a broad grin on his honest face, walks by with a chuckle of sarcasm, for he knows that the £100 and £150 is all a humbug; that his chance is poor, indeed, of obtaining a commission; and that, if he does, he will never in all human probability rise higher than the first grade whercat commissions begin. We shall be told by the advocates-which, for the sake of common sense, we hope are few-of this present system, that some of our most distinguished generals came from the ranks. How many? PROMOTION BY PURCHASE. Can you give us even a fair fractional per centage? Many a "mute inglorious" Havelock, in embryo, may now be wearing corporal's stripes; see him decorated with medals, praise his gallantry, try to persuade him that, some day, he will be "an officer and a gentleman," and let the horse- laugh your prophecy will evoke be its own refutation. The evil workings of promotion by purchase will be better manifested in the following statement of facts than by any dry disquisition of our own, perhaps. In 1855, Major Reed, then Member for Abingdon, alluded to a case in point, in his place in Parliament, during a debate relative to the system of promotion existing in the British Army. The facts of that case, under the signature of "The Officer alluded to by Major Reed," appeared in one of the papers of the day in a letter, an extract from which we hereto append. The officer in question entered the 54th Regiment in May, 1829. Comment is scarcely needed on the following melancholy setting forth of blighted prospects and official injustice. We doubt not there are many such cases; however, let all read and judge for themselves, without taking our word for more than it is worth: : 653 Napoleon said that every French soldier carried the baton de marechal in his knapsack; the Englishman carries it in-his breeche's pocket! that is, provided that the requisite cash be there too. How long will this anomaly continue in the teeth of true policy, to render us proud islanders the laughing stock of our neighbours? In these days, when war on any side seems a probable contingency; when we hear of grumbling New Zealanders and indignant Australians; while the former are complaining that our Government bought their land of them at about one shilling per acre, to sell it to our own people, who go out as settlers, at more than forty times that sum-a tolerably good investment of Government capital, however unequitable-and are talking abont declaring their independence, which they may readily do some fine day, considering that Her Majesty has but very few hundreds of soldiers quartered there; it behoves the powers that be, not only to see that the great army machine works properly, but also to make up any deficit that may occur from time to time in it, by reason of the ravages of pestilence and the sword. That deficit can be supplied by the militia. From its ranks can be recruited for the line well drilled men, who only require reasonabie inducement to lead them into "the regulars." About 25,000 militia are, or will shortly be, raised in Great Britain. That number will be required for garrison duty, both here and elsewhere, as during the late war, at Malta, Corfu, etc. Supposing the present disastrous mutiny to gain daily strength; supposing the ranks of our army in India are thinned more than we think, promptness in despatching troops to the seat of war will be the one thing needful. The time bestowed then on drilling raw recruits at the various depots for the Line will be ill afforded. Some of our militia regiments have already volunteered; many more will doubtless do likewise, if they see any chance of their services being accepted, and themselves fairly treated. Why then are our militia regiments so unfairly thrown into the shade? Why are they clad like Walker's FilliSuch is the outline of an officer's career, and, notwith-busters ? We do not mean as regards the "cut," standing the high authority of Colonal Lindsay (a succeeding In June, 1830, a vacancy occurred among the Lieutenants which he was not allowed to purchase; but an ensign from another regiment obtained it. He did not obtain his lieutenancy for two years afterwards, having lost five steps in his regiment thereby. He returned to England in 1840, and became First Lieutenant for purchase in 1841. Owing to circumstances, which it is unnecessary to enter into, he was purchased over by six Lieutenants, who respectively entered the regiment three, four, seven, eight, and nine years subsequent to the time he did. In seventeen years he obtained his company without purchase. After serving twenty-five years, he applied to the Horse Guards for promotion, supported by very strong testimonials from officers of rank. The usual answer was returned-viz., "noted," but no hope could be held out. In June, 1850, a general army promotion took place, in which he saw 113 Captains promoted, 96 of whom were his juniors in length of service. Seeing, therefore, no prospect of rising in his profession, and only occupying the same position that he would have done had he entered his regiment ten years subsequent to the time he did, he retired from active service. speaker in the debate), that he does not think it so great a hardship to be passed over as many suppose, I can only tell him that, as it was never his fortune to be passed over he can ill form an idea of the feelings of an officer who has been, not once, but six times passed over. I can tell him that the strong personal friendships contracted by serving years together in the same regiment, barely suffice to subdue the feelings which naturally exist in the mind of the officer who sees himself successively outstripped in his profession, by those who entered his regiment years after he did. Let him fancy the feelings of an officer-we will suppose Adjutant of his regiment, therefore entrusted by the commanding officer with the instruction of the young officers in their several duties; fancy, I say, the feelings of this officer, probably one of some year's service, who may have had a difficulty in making a Lieutenant comprehend some simple movement, when the regiment was at exercise; yet the next morning the Gazette shows the young officer a Captain by purchase over the head of his instructor. Not felt! Why, any officer must be devoid of every feeling which ought to exist in the soldier if he did not feel it, and deeply too. but the quality of their clothing. Self-respect is a the |