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THE POLITE GUIDE TO THE CIVIL SERVICE. (By an Affable Philosopher and Courteous Friend.)

HOW TO ENTER THE CIVIL SERVICE.

IN the good old days of yore there was little trouble in obtaining admission to the Civil Service. All that was necessary was a slight knowledge of a Cabinet Minister, and a smattering of schooling. The latter might be obtained at Eton, Winchester, Rugby, Westminster, or Harrow. The acquaintance of the Minister, of course, had to be made by your father. You were too young to have attracted the attention of so important a personage. Suppose you had reached the mature age of eighteen, and had given up the round jackets and collars of boyhood, and had assumed stick-ups" and "cutaways." your father would probably ask you "What you intended to do next?"

"No, my dear fellow," would be the paternal reply to a suggestion about Trinity or Christ Church. "I am afraid I can't manage either. You see, your two elder brothers went to the University, but then we could find them family livings. It would be useless to let you read for the Bar, because we haven't any of us married into a single firm of Solicitors; and in these hard times I really can't afford to buy you a commission.”

You would notice sotto roce that when ways and means were being discussed, times were always hard.

suppose you could be a doctor if you pleased; but walking the hospitals is not a particularly pleasant occupation. Then there is another opening-why not try the Civil Service ?"

You would rather freshen up at this. You would have read in a comic paper, that never will be nameless, that Government clerks were like the fountains in Trafalgar Square (old style), "because they played from ten to four."

Well, yes," you would return. "I don't think I should mind that so much. It would be rather fun to go to Paris as an attaché."

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"I'm afraid I couldn't quite manage that, my dear boy," your fond parent would respond. They don't pay attachés at first, and so you would have to be satisfied with the War Office or the Admiralty instead of the Foreign Office."

"All right, Pater," you would say, and leave the matter in the hands of the elder generation.

Then your father would write to any Cabinet Minister of his acquaintance about things in general and nothing in particular, and would add a "P.S." asking for a nomination. In due course a reply would come granting the sweet boon. A test examination would follow of a perfunctory character, and an intimation of your appointment would be the sequel. Then you would take up your daily residence in Pall Mall or Whitehall for twenty or thirty years and then retire as a Knight or a C.B. Thus was done in the comparatively long ago. But now-a-days another plan has to be adopted. Instead of entering the Civil Service as a junior join it as a senior. As a preliminary you must get into the House. This is simpler than having to cram and then stand the racket of a competitive examination. Any one under certain conditions can enter Parliament, but the Civil Service Commissioners bar the entrance to the Government offices with equally certain regulations. For the sake of argument let me assume that you are in the House. You have stood for Slocum-on-the-Marsh, and have persuaded the Slocum-on-the-Marshers to elect you. As an M.P. you are duly qualified to accept any appointment under the Crown when the Government ask you. The best plan is to think of an office and then add one to it—yourself.

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Why not the Public Squander Department?" you ask yourself. To which you reply with a second question, “Why not?" Yes, the P. S. D. is not half bad. But how to get into it. Well, why not take up Milestones? All the world knows that the Public Squander Department are responsible for all the Milestones not under the superintendence of the county authorities. Go for the Milestones.

Begin with a question. Learn that the Milestones in the Old Bath Road are in many cases illegible. Request the Secretary of

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A REALIST IN FICTION. "I SAW A RABBIT RUN THROUGH THAT HEDGE!"

"No, DEAR. IT WAS IMAGINATION!" "ARE 'MAGINATIONS WHITE BEHIND?"

the Public Squander Department to inform you when the inscription of such and such a Milestone was last restored? The official will fence the query. Probably his Private Secretary, considering you a new man, will have failed to furnish the necessary information. You must expect a little retardation at the first set-off.

And here let me point out for your future guidance the importance of having a private secretary thoroughly up to his work. Had your answerer been possessed of the proper sort of assistant you would have been discovered, respectfully button-holed, and perforce satisfied. You would never have had the heart to put your question about the Milestones. But the particular Private Secretary of your answerer being not up to his work you get snubbed. But don't be discouraged; stick to your Milestones.

Bombard "the Right Hon. Gentleman opposite" with questions. Ask him for particulars about the Milestones in the Old Kent Road and on Salisbury Plain. If he requests notice, give him notice. By degrees you will find that you are becoming an institution. Milestones are your specialty. When the House is sitting demand particulars. When the House is up, write to the papers. Move for returns about Milestones. Go down to Slocum-on-the-Marsh and read papers on Milestones. If possible, be made a F.S.A. on the strength of your knowledge of Milestones. So identify yourself

with Milestones that when your name is casually mentioned anywhere, let it be common form for some one to say, "Of course, the chap who looks after the Milestones."

Wait patiently until your side move over from the Opposition to the Government benches. Then will come your opportuntity. You will have sat upon a Milestone Commission. You have been very instrumental in getting Milestones polished. You have caused Milestones to be multiplied. All these services must be recognised. And they will.

You will find yourself offered the Secretaryship of the Public Squander Department-to take care of the Milestones. Accept it. You will now have become a Civil Servant. On some future occasion I may suggest how you may successfully perform your duties in your new position.

DEFINITION.-A London Square is the Paradise of Perambulators.

LYRE AND LANCET.

(A Story in Scenes.)

PART XVIII.-THE LAST STRAW.

SCENE XXVII. (continued).-The Chinese Drawing Room. SPURRELL'S ingenuous remark upon the coincidence of the title of the volume in his hand with the name of his bull-dog has produced a painful silence, which no one has sufficient presence of mind to break for several seconds.

Miss Spelwane (to herself). Not CLARION BLAIR! Not even a poet! I-I could slap him!"

Pilliner (to himself). Poor dear VIVIEN! But if people will insist on patting a strange poet, they mustn't be surprised if they get a nasty bite!

Lady Maisie (to herself). He didn't write Andromeda! Then he hasn't got my letter after all! And I've been such a brute to the poor dear man! How lucky I said nothing about it to GERALD!

Captain Thicknesse (to himself). So he ain't the bard!... Now I see why MAISIE's been behavin' so oddly all the evenin'; she spotted him, and didn't like to speak out. Tried to give me a hint, though. Well, I shall stay out my leave now!

Lady Rhoda (to herself). I thought all along he seemed too good a sort for a poet! Archie (to himself). It's all very well; but how about that skit he went up to write on us? He must be a poet of sorts.

Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris (to herself). This is fearfully puzzling. What made him say that about "Lady Grisoline"?

The Bishop (to himself). A crushing blow for the Countess; but not unsalutary. I am distinctly conscious of feeling more kindly disposed to that young man. Now why? [He ponders.

Lady Lullington (to herself). Ithought this young man was going to read us some of his poetry; it's too tiresome of him to stop to tell us about his bull-dog. As if anybody cared what he called it!

Lord Lullington (to himself). Uncommonly awkward, this! If I could catch LAURA's eye-but I suppose it would hardly be decent to go just yet.

Lady Culverin (to herself). Can ROHESIA have known this? What possible object could she have had in

And

oh, dear, how disgusted RUPERT will be! Sir Rupert (to himself). Seems a decent young chap enough! Too bad of ROHESIA to let him in for this. I don't care a straw what he is-he's none the worse for not being a poet.

Lady Cantire (to herself). What is he maundering about? It's utterly inconceivable that I should have made any mistake. It's only too clear what the cause is-Claret!

Spurrell (aloud, good-humouredly). Too bad of you to try and spoof me like this before everybody, Miss SPELWANE!

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wait till these county nobs have cleared, I suppose there goes the last of 'em-now for it!... (He pulls himself together, and approaches his host and hostess.) Hem, Sir RUPERT, and your ladyship, it's occurred to me that it's just barely possible you may have got it into your heads that I was something in the poetical way. him down as easily as possible! (Aloud.) Not at all-not at all! Ha Sir Rup. (to himself). Not this poor young chap's fault; must let -assure you we quite understand; no necessity to say another word about it.

Spurr. (to himself). Just my luck! They quite understand! No Housekeeper's Room for me this journey! (Aloud.) Of course I knew the Countess, there, and Lady MAISIE, were fully aware all along (To Lady MAISIE, as stifled exclamations reach his ear.) You were, were'nt you?

Spurr. (to the others).

Lady Maisie (hastily). Yes, yes, Mr. SPURRELL. Of course! It's all perfectly right! You see, I should never have thought of coming in as a visitor if it hadn't been for the Countess; she would have it that it was all right, and that I needn't be afraid I shouldn't be welcome.

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"Albinia, I think I will go to bed!"

don't know whose idea it was to play me such a trick, but

Lady Culv. To be sure-any friend of my sister-in-law's

Lady Cant. ALBINIA, I have refrained from speech as long as possible; but this is really too much! You don't suppose I should have introduced Mr. SPURRELL here unless I had had the strongest reasons for knowing, however he may be pleased to mystify us now, that he, and nobody else, is the author of Andromeda! And I, for one, absolutely decline to believe in this preposterous story of his about a bull-dog.

Spurr. But your ladyship must have known! Why, you as good as asked me on the way here to put you down for a bull-pup!

Lady Cant. Never, never! A bull-pup is the last creature I should ever dream of coveting. You were obliging enough to ask me to accept a presentation copy of your verses.

Spurr. Was I? I don't exactly see how I could have been, considering I never made a rhyme in my life!

Sir Rup. There, there, ROHESIA, it was your mistake; but as we are indebted to it for the pleasure of making Mr. SPURRELL'S acquaintance

Lady Cant. I am not in the habit of making mistakes, RUPERT. I don't know what you and ALBINIA and MAISIE may know that I am in ignorance of, but, since you seem to have been aware from the first that Mr. SPURRELL was not the poet you had invited here to meet me, will you kindly explain what has become of the real author?

Sir Rup. My dear ROHESIA, I don't know and I don't care!

Lady Cant. There you are wrong, RUPERT, because it's obvious that if he is not Mr. SPURRELL, his absence has to be accounted for in some way.

Spurr. By Jove, I believe I can put you on the track. I shouldn't Miss Spelw. (indistinctly). Please understand that nobody here wonder if he's the party these dress clothes of mine belong to! 1 had the least intention of playing a trick upon you! daresay you may have noticed they don't look as if they were made for me?

Spurr. Well, if you say so, of course- But it looked rather like it, asking me to read when I've about as much poetry in me as-as a pot hat! Still, if I'm wanted to read aloud, I shall be happy to oblige

Lady Culv. (hastily). Indeed, indeed, Mr. SPURRELL, we couldn't think of troubling you under the circumstances! (In desperation.) VIVIEN, my dear, won't you sing something?

Lady Cant. (closing her eyes). Pray let us avoid any sartorial discussions! We are waiting to hear about this person.

Spurr. Well, I found I'd got on his things by mistake, and I went up as soon as I could after dessert to my room to take 'em off, and there he was, with a waste-paper basket on his headLady Cant. A waste-paper basket on his head! And pray what should he have that for?

And I

[The company echo the request with unusual eagerness. Spurr. (to himself, during Miss SPELWANE's song). Wonder what's Spurr. He said he wouldn't take it off till he saw me. put them off being read to all of a sudden. (As his eye happens to never saw anyone in such a mess with ink and flour as he was! rest on the binding of the volume on his knee.) Hullo! This cover's Lady Cant. Ink and flour, indeed! This rigmarole gets more pink, with silver things, not unlike cutlets, on it! Didn't EMMA ridiculous every moment! You can't seriously expect anyone here to ask me -? By George, if it's that! I may get down to the believe it! [ARCHIE discreetly retires to the smoking-room. Housekeeper's Room, after all! As soon as ever this squalling stops Spurr. Well, I rather think somebody must have fixed up a booby I'll find out; I can't go on like this! (Miss SPELWANE leaves the trap for me, you know, and he happened to go in first and get the piano; everybody plunges feverishly into conversation on the first benefit of it. And he was riled, very naturally, thinking I'd done subject-other than poetry or dogs-that presents itself, until Lord it, but after we'd had a little talk together, he calmed down and said and Lady LULLINGTON set a welcome example of departure.) Better I might keep his clothes, which I thought uncommonly good

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To SPURRELL.)

[He hands it to Lady CULVERIN. Lady Culr. "Mr. UNDERSHELL!"... ROHESIA, that is CLARION BLAIR! I knew it was something ending in "ell." And you say Mr. UNDERSHELL is here-in this house? Spurr. Not now. He's gone by this time.

The Others (in dismay). Gone!

Spurr. He said he was leaving at once. If he'd only told me how it was, I'd have

Lady Cant. I don't believe a single word of all this! If Mr. SPURRELL is not CLARION BLAIR, let him explain how he came to be coming down to Wyvern this afternoon!

[Partial reaction in company, Spurr. If your ladyship doesn't really know, you had better a-k Sir RUPERT; he 'll tell you it's all right.

Lady Cant. Then perhaps you will be good enough to enlighten us, RUPERT ?

Sir Rup. (driven into a corner). Why, 'pon my word, I'm bound to say that I'm just as much in the dark as anybody else, if it comes to that!

Spurr, (eagerly). But you wired me to come, Sir! About a horse of yours! I've been wondering all the evening when you'd tell m I could go round and have a look at him. I'm here instead of Mr. SPAVIN-now do you understand, Sir RUPERT? I'm the Vet. [Suppressed sensation.

Sir Rup. (to himself). This is devilish awkward! Don't quite know what to do. (Aloud) To-to be sure you are! Of course! That's it, ROHESIA! Mr. SPURRELL came down to see a horse, and we shall be very glad to have the benefit of his opinion by-and-by. [He claps him amicably on the shoulder. Lady Cant. (in a sepulchral tone). ALBINIA, I think I will go to bed. [She withdraws. Sir Rup. (to himself). There'll be no harm in letting him stay, now he is here. If ROHESIA objects, she's got nobody but herself to blame for it!

Spurr. (to himself). They won't want to keep me upstairs much longer after this! (TREDWELL enters, and seems to have something of importance to communicate to Sir RUPERT in private.) I wonder what the dooce is up now!

TO LETTINA.

(By a Profound Thinker.)

I DON'T know why, but fifty times a day.
To you my thoughts persistently will fly,
You come to me, and, coming, come to stay-
I don't know why.

Sometimes I catch myself inclined to try
From heart and mind to banish you away.

I always fail. If you are not too shy,
Just write a line to tell me that I may
Think fondly of you. Then in future I
Shall think of you, and never want to say
I don't know why.

THE NEW CANDIDATE.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,-I trust you will give me the hospitality of your columns (and thus save me the cost of extensive advertising) to announce that I intend to offer myself as a candidate for all the eleven divisions at the forthcoming School Board Election. I do this for several reasons. In the first place, as I have no more chance in any one place more than in any other, I feel it quite impossible to make any choice. Besides, to be elected at the top of eleven polls would be an unique distinction, second only to being defeated at the bottom of eleven. In the next place, as I can find no other persons who will come forward on my platform, I am bound to offer myself everywhere. My views are extensive, not to say peculiar. On the religious question, I agree with everything that has been said by everybody. I hope in this way to avoid incurring odium theologicum of any kind. I am in favour of no one paying rates unless he has children actually at a Board School. I am told that this will not secure for me the Labour Vote, but it ought, at any rate, to rally to my side all the "intelligent and respectable." On all other points I believe I am well fitted to sit on the London School Board. I understand that at its meetings oysters and Chablis are sometimes the order of the day. If I am returned, my main object, I avow it frankly, will be to make them the standing order. Soliciting the vote of every patriotic citizen, I am, Yours up-to-(being-a-candi-)date,

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"HE'S HAPPY NOW."

["A CONSTANT READER'S " favourite craze is now being discussed in all the papers.]

"I AM SO GLAD THIS SUBJECT IS BEING THOROUGHLY VENTILATED. IT MUST BE DOING SO MUCH GOOD AMONG THE YOUNG."

MAYENNAISE v. MAYONNAISE: A REJOINDER.

MY

poor Mayonnaise, they have sullied your fame!
They would alter your spelling, my sweet Mayonnaise.
The younger DUMAS has e-mended your name
And sent you forth "o"-less the rest of your days.

So this man of romances-this writer of plays-
Who has woven full many a plot in his time-
Would force us to spell you henceforth Mayennaise.
Nay! this is a plot little short of a crime!

"Twill make not an atom of diff'rence to me.

The younger DUMAS may discourse as he will; He's welcome, with Weller, to "spell with a wee""To me and the world you are Mayonnaise still.

He says, at the time when the city Mayenne

Was besieged by an army and riddled with shot, Your charms were acknowledged and praised by the men. Was that army not led by Sir Thomas de Rot? Say, Queen of the Sauces, which vow'l shall it be? Will you yield up the name your admirers bestow? Pronounce while your lover is down on an "E"Is it that which you choose? Is it yes? or a "NO"? This correspondence must now cease.-ED.

"WHERE IS HE?" - With diamond robberies and darksome murders, of which the perpetrators are still at large, we are all crying out for a real genuine "SHERLOCK HOLMES." We, WATSONS, are waiting for him to step forward and drag various dark mysteries into the light of day. Cheerfully shall the coming HOLMES be saluted with Mr. BROOKFIELD's refrain, "O SHERLOCK, you wonderful man!"

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Hostess. "I HEARD YOU MET MY COUSIN, MAUD LESLIE, AT THE GIBSONS AT DINNER, MR. WILKINSON, AND THAT YOU WERE CHARMED WITH HER!" Mr. Wilkinson. "CHARMED WITH HER? I SHOULD THINK SO! WHO WOULDN'T BE? WHY, I'VE ABSOLUTELY FORGOTTEN WHO THE LADY WAS I TOOK INTO DINNER, AND WHO SAT ON MY OTHER SIDE!" Lady Visitor. "I'M AFRAID IT HAPPENED TO BE ME, MR. WILKINSON!"

"AN AWKWARD CUSTOMER."
AIR-"The Bold Poacher."

WHEN I was bound by Party ties to play the bold Premier,
I shouldered of my gun, my lads, and started void of fear;
With my trusty lurcher at my heels, to whom the sport is dear,
For he's game for fight by day or night at the season of the year!

As I and my bold comrade were after bird or hare,
The gamekeeper was watching us; for him we did not care.
For we were on our ground, my boys, grounds free to tyke or peer;
And they're my delight by day or night at the season of the year!"

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As I and my bold comrade were in the Peers' Preserve, We heard the keeper's footsteps, but we did not halt or swerve. But I whistled-to keep up my pluck-a song to sportsmen dear: 'Oh it's my delight on a shiny night, in the season of the year! The Gamekeeper popped through the copse, and faced us with a frown;

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"

He's got a black-a-vised stern phiz, and a coat o' velvet brown.
He says "Hillo, Sir! Poaching?" I retorts, Oh, don't you fear!
A gent may poach his own preserves at the season of the year!
He says, "You ought to be ashamed to set so bad example
A sportsman true won't join the crew who trespass, trap, and
trample.

A dirty bird fouls its own nest!" he adds, with a sour sneer.
Swells should not poach by day or night in the season of the year."
Says I." You sneer, but I'm your peer, my Sol. The people sent me!
Stare like an owl, or sneer and scowl, you know you can't prevent me!
These here Preserves want breaking up, Monopoly's pitch to queer
Is our delight by day or night, in the season of the year.

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LOCAL COLOUR.

MR. ASQUITH was reported the other day to have said that the Government was spoken of as having been accused of refusing socalled amendments to the Employers' Liability Bill in "peacock temper." The Daily News, in referring to this, suggests that 'peacock temper was a misprint for "pique, or temper." But surely this is not so. Mr. ASQUITH evidently has given in his adhesion to the new system of "colour adjectives." This opens great possibilities to the future. Radicals will denounce the "scarlet Scandals of the purple-clad peers.' Tories will wax eloquent on "the pink miasma of revolutionary Radicalism." No one will know what it all means, but that is part of the programme. Even if this colour scheme will not work, there is still a justification for the Asquithian phrase. Everybody has heard of a "foul slander." Why not a "peacock temper "?

A Case of Parallelism. (Extracts from the Report of a recent Conference.) "DR. STANLEY BOYD advocated the use of milk and lentil soup."

"MRS. STANLEY BOYD thought that all such novels as The Heavenly Twins, The Manxman, and The Wages of Sin, should be tabooed."

SIR PETER.-A well-written letter in the Times last week puts what may be called "The Hard Case of Sir PETER EDLIN"-and, indeed, he must be pretty well case-hardened at the Middlesex Sessions by this time-clearly and forcibly before the public. Sir PETER EDLIN, it seems, has been doing treble the amount of work for a two-third's salary. This should be righted, and the Judge at the Middlesex Sessions should be independent of the would-be ubiquitous L. C. C. Such is the opinion of this Correspondent to the Times, and it is doubtless the opinion of a fair and just majority. As Joseph Surface observes in The School for Scandal," Well, it will give SIR PETER great satisfaction to hear this."

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"AN AWKWARD CUSTOMER."

GAMEKEEPER S-L-SB-RY. "HALLO! YOUNG FELLOW! POACHING ?"

THE "YOUNG FELLOW" R-S-B-RY. "IF I AM POACHING, I'M ON MY OWN PRESERVES."

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