interval to pay a further visit to the private secretary. The result is that he receives a letter in “our form No. 2,” expressing the Lieutenant-Governor’s further regret or surprise at his impatience. If he still persists in his visits, he will eventually receive “our form No. 3,” in which he is informed that the Lieutenant-Governor must decline to see him or to make any further communication to him, and then at last, perhaps, his eyes are opened, and he may go so far as to blame himself for having given the Lieutenant-Governor so much trouble, when in reality the Lieutenant-Governor has, perhaps, heard little more of him than his name. But there is another class of applicants for appointments and promotion who cannot be disposed of quite so easily. The members of the sacred Civil Service, of which caste the Lieutenant-Governor is himself the chief, are accustomed to think that it is their special privilege, and a duty to themselves, to represent to the Lieutenant-Governor their own claims and their own peculiar fitness for any desirable appointment that is vacant, or likely to become vacant, for many of them are not at all content to wait till the vacancy actually occurs. The Lieutenant-Governor usually submits himself to the ordeal of seeing these candidates, and though it is often a sad waste of his time, it is not always without its uses, for it sometimes enables him to obtain a closer insight into the character of the applicant, and at the same time to pick up some information about local affairs under a new light. Sometimes the Lieutenant-Governor has a plan of admitting visitors of this class to breakfast, and it becomes an interesting speculation for him during breakfast to guess with what particular object each individual has come. This arrangement has also occasionally the happy effect of disconcerting the visitors themselves. Mr. Smith, who has arrived from some remote part of the country especially to urge his claims to some particular appointment, finds, to his disgust and amazement, that Mr. Robinson, the very man whose rivalry he most feared, has also come down from his district obviously with the same intention. In such a case the Lieutenant-Governor has great opportunities, if he is master of the conversation at his breakfast-table, of operating on the feelings of Smith and Robinson whilst the rest of the company are present. When breakfast is over, the Lieutenant-Governor usually retires to his study, and the visitors who wish for a private interview wait on till their turn comes to be ushered into the great man’s presence. We will draw a veil over the scenes which there occur. It is curious to note how strongly the wish is father to the thought, and how each candidate, if cross-examined immediately on his exit from his interview, will be found to have put the construction most favourable to his own desires on the words uttered by the Lieutenant-Governor. Happy is the