"Certainly, Sir," TENTERFORE has replied, and the result of his energy has been the trophies you see around you. TENTERFORE has applied to the people at the Tower, or Holyrood, or Dublin Castle, and got up quite a collection of quaint old arms. They have been duly received by the Public Squander Department, and retained. It is a rule of the _bureau_ that anything that has been once accepted shall be kept for ever. That is to say, if it can be clearly proved that the things retained can be useful somewhere else. You look round with satisfaction, and then greet with effusion the chief clerk. He has been waiting to receive you. As you do not know the ropes, it is advisable to be civil to every one. Later on, when you have a talented assistant to prompt you, you can allow your cordiality to cool. However, at this moment it is better to be extremely polite to all the world, and (if you know her) his wife. The chief clerk is delighted to exchange expressions of mutual respect and common good-will. He will put in something neat about the Milestones as a concession to your labours in that direction. "My dear Sir," you will reply with a smile, "don't bother yourself about _them_. I can keep _them_ quite safe. We have nothing to fear from them." The face of the chief clerk will beam. He will see that you are one of them. Milestones for the future are to be defended, not attacked. He will accept you as an illustrious bureaucratic recruit. He will see that you are ready to stand shoulder to shoulder in defence of the office. Could anything be better? Then for about the thirtieth time you will be asked if you have selected a private secretary, and the chief clerk will suggest his own particular nominee. With much cordiality you will receive the proposal, but keep the matter open. You must remember that upon the appointment your future success depends. Moreover, it is a nice little piece of patronage which you may as well retain for yourself. When you have selected your private secretary it will be time to get into harness, and of this operation I hope to treat on some future occasion. * * * * * [Illustration: HOW OPINION IS FORMED. _He._ "HAVE YOU READ THAT BEASTLY BOOK _THE MAUVE PEONY_, BY LADY MIDDLESEX?" _She._ "YES. I RATHER LIKED IT." _He._ "SO DID I."] "NO FEES!"--The new seats in the Drury Lane pit "by an ingenious arrangement," says Mr. CLEMENT SCOTT, in the _Daily Telegraph_, "'tip up' of their own accord the instant they are vacated." Then, evidently, the system of "fees to attendants" is not abolished at T.R. Drury Lane. In theatres where it is abolished no "tipping up" could possibly be permitted. * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. [Illustration]