glass of rare sherry, a foaming tankard of ale, and the prettiest wife in all the world.

"I began to think you late, dear," said Ruth; "how rosy and well you look."

"It is cold, and I walked fast," I said, kissing her parted lips. "You did not walk all the way, George ?"

“Yes, I did, dear; I thought it would do me good, and it was an opportunity for planning out some work."

"You must be very tired; but you will soon recover; I am quite sure you will enjoy your supper; and it is delightful to see you looking so well. How have you succeeded in your business arrangements -in the battle as you call it, George?"

"Well, my darling, as well, I think, as an earnest soldier could have expected; and with your glove in my helmet, Ruth, what may I not dare to hope for? Now tell me what you have been doing all day," I said, as she sat down upon a low seat at my side and laid her head upon my knee.

"I have made a little rough winter sketch of the Thames; hemmed a new neckerchief for you; made some mince pies; and prepared, myself, according to the receipt you gave me, the pheasant for supper."

She looked up into my face for an approving recognition of her industry, and she had it, you may be sure. There never was such a supper. I told her so a thousand times. a thousand times. She laughed at my enthusiasm, and said I was a gourmand. This led to our talking of the fat priest whom we met at Boulogne. Then we discussed a letter which I had received the week previously from Mrs. Pensax, asking me to arrange to bring Ruth to visit her in the spring, and promising to come over herself at Christmas if the weather was not severe. This letter reminded Ruth that two notes had arrived during my absence. I opened them. rent, the other a tailor's bill. the world began at this season to love in a nest on the Thames! of no moment.

One was an application for How the miserable realities of crowd in upon our romance of I put the letters aside as matters

"Is there a good fire in the studio, Ruth?" I asked, when supper

was over.

"Yes," she said; "and I have told Mary to take the spirits there and light the candles."

"You are the most thoughtful wife in the world, and the best," I said; "and I am going to indulge myself, with your permission, in a college habit."

“A cigar,” said Ruth; "why, I do not think I have ever seen you smoke."

"I never cared much about it, Ruth, but I feel that I could enjoy a cigar to-night while you play," I said, my inner consciousness rebuking me for a carpet knight.

"I remember you smoked a cheroot at Boulogne, and it did not agree with you," said Ruth.

"It was the coffee, dear; I did not like the coffee, I think. I am going to enjoy this cigar immensely."

And I did. It was an old, mild, dry cigar, and it helped me to think over the events of the day and sketch out my plans for the future, while Ruth soothed my anxieties into a dreamy security by some sympathetic compositions that gave me hope and courage. Presently she sang an old favourite ballad, which carried me back to that summer time at the Deanery. I watched the blue smoke of my cigar disappear in the firelight. There was a fragrant perfume in the well-seasoned leaf. I seemed to taste in it the flavour of those days by the Wulstan river. But that time, sweet as it was, had not the full-flavoured delight of these hours of possession when she was the light of my fireside, my other self, my wife, the idol of my home.

Though I tell my flock that God is a jealous God, and liketh not their loving kith or kin over much, I preach to them thus more out of regard for their earthly comfort than with respect to their future in the other world. A narrow interpreter of God's dispensations would argue that my love for Ruth amounted to a sin against the Almighty; and would see in my devotion to her a reason for her removal, I count the Divine Majesty so high and just, and merciful, that I leave no room for a single unworthy thought concerning Him. But Oh! sometimes I feel a sharp and bitter pang when I think of the details of that last chapter of her noble womanly life when she clasped my hand for the last time in this lower world.

(To be continued.)

THE NAVIES OF THE WORLD.

N these days of violent revolutions and startling changes, the creation or destruction of an empire, the establishment of a republic, or the conquest and humiliation of a great military

nation, can be effected in such a short space of time that we run the risk of falling into one of two errors, of both of which we have in this country experienced some of the earlier symptoms during the course of the last few months. The brief period of twelve months has sufficed for the consolidation of the German Empire, and not only the overthrow of the Imperial Government of France, but the destruction of that enormous military power and prestige which for years had been able to keep the whole of Europe in an attitude of respectful vigilance, to such an extent that the boast attributed to the Emperor Napoleon III., "When France is satisfied, Europe is at peace," had well-nigh passed into a proverb. The rapidity and completeness of the German campaign in France not unnaturally produced a plentiful crop of alarmists in this country, and there was good reason at one time to fear, from the tone of the daily press and from the vacation speeches of panic-stricken members of Parliament, that we were about to be drawn into that kind of reckless and improvident mania for "bloated armaments" which such panics usually engender.

The other danger which we incurred, and of which we have perhaps more reason to be afraid, now that the alarmists have had their day, is the reaction consequent upon this fear of being found unprepared. Men who are easily frightened are too often easily satisfied. A few reassuring speeches from Ministers, and a leader or two in the Times, are all that would be required to convince those who were just now crying out about our defenceless position, that there is really nothing whatever to be done to perfect our resources.

Most people have an almost instinctive horror of statistics. Comparatively few have either the leisure, the inclination, or the opportunity of examining for themselves the facts relating to our national forces, which would dispel the notion, on the one hand, that we are hopelessly incompetent to repel an invasion, and utterly destitute of the means of self-defence; or, on the other hand, that we are splendidly furnished and equipped, and that nothing remains for us

but to sit down and calmly await the threatened storm. It is because of the ignorance which prevails among the great mass of the nonprofessional public that such imaginary sketches as "The Battle of Dorking" are calculated to defeat the object for which they are probably written, and to operate mischievously upon public opinion. If a man knows little or nothing of the present condition of our Army and Navy, he may be led without much difficulty to accept as probabilities all the wildest suggestions of disaster which a morbid fancy can picture before him, and the almost certain result will be a panic; or he may treat the whole thing as a clever joke, and be as careless and indifferent to improvements and reforms as ever.

It is with a view to clear up the doubts which beset the mind of the public as to the real position which this country occupies in the scale of nations that we propose to draw, as briefly as possible, a comparison between the naval forces of Great Britain and those of the principal maritime Powers against which we might, at some future time, have to contend. It was shown, some months ago, in the pages of this magazine, that the supremacy of the seas was still wielded under the British flag, and the result of the more minute inquiries, which we are about to lay before our readers, will, we are confident, fully corroborate that statement; at the same time there are defects in the administration of the Navy, as well as deficiencies in our naval resources, to which we shall not hesitate to direct the most earnest attention.

It is necessary before entering upon the question of the actual condition of our Navy, as compared with that of other Powers, to point out a few considerations which must modify to a great extent the sense of security that a bare statement of the number of our ships and the weight of our guns might otherwise produce.

It must be borne in mind, in the first place, that our principal line of defence, in the event of an attempted invasion, must always be the Channel Squadron. This, of course, must be maintained in the highest state of efficiency, and although in many parts of the coast these islands are utterly inaccessible, there yet remains a very extensive coast line to be defended by cruising ships. When we add to this the number and importance of our large commercial ports, almost all of them entirely unprotected by fortifications and landworks, it is evident that a Channel Squadron is required vastly larger in proportion to the extent of our boundary line than that of any country which can depend partly upon its Army for protection in the first instance, and partly upon communication by land for its supplies. This dependence upon the successful maintenance of our commercial

relations with neutral Powers in time of war, as well as the defence of our Indian and colonial possessions, renders it essential, of course, that we should have always at command a large fleet of a very different kind from the Channel Squadron, consisting of sea-going ships capable of the most rapid movements, and adapted for naval operations in the open sea.

For these two services, which comprise the chief, although not the only part of the work which our Navy would have to perform in time of war, the last two reconstructions of the fleet have gone far towards placing us in a state of efficiency. The first, which provided us with the old wooden steam line-of-battle ships and frigates, has been somewhat underrated since the introduction of armour-plated vessels, and the enormous increase in the size and weight of the guns which the ironclads carry; but there is no reason to doubt that these ships would be of inestimable value as convoys for merchantmen, and in harassing an enemy's commerce.

The only arm, however, upon which we can at all rely for home defence is our ironclad Navy; and it is to this that we must first turn our attention.

For twelve years all our science and mechanical skill has been devoted to two objects-first, the construction of armoured ships capable of resisting the heaviest ordnance; and, secondly, the casting of guns of such calibre and power as to be able to pierce the thickest plates. The result has been one which it is impossible to contemplate except with the liveliest satisfaction, although it is hard to say which of the two objects is most nearly attained. On the one hand, we have the 35-ton 700-pounder guns which seem capable of anything which powder and shot can effect; and, on the other, we have such vessels as the Glatton, the Devastation, and the Monarch, the sides of which are impervious to anything but these 35-ton guns, if even they would yield to them.

The armoured Navy of Great Britain consists of fifty-eight vessels, comprising almost every variety of ironclad ships, and illustrating in a most instructive manner the history of naval architecture during the last twelve years. From the Warrior, which was our first essay, with her belt of armour amidships, and her bow and stern unprotected, to the Devastation, which seems to be a floating citadel of iron, we have specimens of almost every design which the ingenuity of inventors could supply. Immediately following the completion of the Warrior come the converted frigates of the Royal Oak and Ocean class, which includes the Caledonia, the Prince Consort, and the Royal Alfred.