no attempt to change the odious double tyranny which each exercises towards the other. Vanity, the curse of modern England, prompts them both. Neither of them has yet conceived that he would be happier if he were natural—if he ceased to indignantly stand up for little rights and little privileges, which, regarded either morally or philosophically, are simply contemptible. In France, where all rights are equal, no one has rights to defend; and though that solution of the difficulty is inapplicable publicly in England would not be impossible to try it privately in a few houses, with chosen servants, in order to see whether English natures cannot be raised to the French level. It can scarcely be seriously urged that an English servant cannot be cured of his special vanity-that he cannot be raised, by example and with teaching, above the sham dignity he affects is higher in France than it is in England, that no abandonment of dignity is required from them, that mutual respect is the general basis of the connection between them and their employers. We shall further acknowledge that the Frenchman, from his sobriety, his gay temper, his willingness, and his usually extensive capabilities, is, on the whole, a pleasanter and more useful servitor than the average of Englishmen. It can scarcely be said that all these differences spring solely from peculiarities of national temperament, and that the French-in our time at least surely it man is what he is solely because he is a Frenchman. That, of course, supplies a partial explanation of the question; but there are other far more potent causes at work. If it were possible to sum up those causes in one word, we should have no alternative but to say that the principal defects of English servants, and the grave difficulties which their exigencies have created during the last thirty years, are due to the vanity of their masters. Surrounded on all sides by the aspirations and the discontent of the lower classes, the English persist in regulating their servants by rules of vanity. They screw them down, they keep them at a haughty distance, they remind them many times a-day that they are absolute inferiors. The natural result is, that the English servant gives what he is bound to give, but no more; he offers nothing of his own accord, for he has engaged his body, not his heart. He lives in a state of permanent secret resentment. He does not rebel, because the moment has not come for that; but if ever he should get a chance hereafter, he will fix his own conditions, which, apparently, will be very different from those under which he now exists. The master is not more satisfied than the man, but he makes that he cannot be induced to regard service as a state of life implying a general obligation to aid whenever aid is wanted, and not as a duty strictly limited to laying the cloth and drawing corks in one case, or to pure housemaiding in another. An English "general servant," like the maid-ofall-work, is incapable of doing any one thing well; it will therefore naturally be argued that if a butler or a lady's-maid were to sometimes discharge other functions than their own, they would cease to do their own work well. But really it would be degrading to England to admit such a thing as that. Why should not an Englishman do any thing as well as a Frenchman? The answer, in this special case, is, Because he won't. But if he were encouraged to try, by kind words and clear reasons, and rewarded in the event of success, is it certain that No. I.-Servants. he would persist in his refusal? If English masters could attain sufficient wisdom-could sufficiently shake off the bonds of conventional pride in which they have been brought up-to call their servants together and discuss the whole thing with them calmly and without prejudice, who can pretend that the whole system might not be modified, without a shock, to the infinite advantage of all concerned? Try it. Say to your household, "My friends, in France masters and servants do not regard each other as enemies, and do not each stand out for every inch of what we call 'rights.' They give and take. The servant looks upon his master as a friend, and does all he can to be of use to him without haggling over the conditions of his 'place.' The master treats his servants kindly, and chats and laughs with them; and it really ap 637 pears that they get on over there vastly better than we do that the work is better done, that housekeeping is less expensive, all because everybody has the same end in view that end being mutual satisfaction. Now, my friends, let us see shall begin, for it is my duty to set if we can imitate the French. I the example, and to show you how to vanquish old habits and old prejudices.' your servants would say and do? What do you suppose They might be a little puzzled at first; but if you acted with tact and sense, you would soon guide them to the right road, weeding out the incorrigibles whom you might discover to be unworthy of your guid ance. If such an end as this were atthis glimpse at French servants tained even in half-a-dozen houses, will have served a useful object. THOSE justices of the peace, although appointed by his Majesty, have never been a comfort to me, saving only Colonel Lougher. They never seem to understand me, or to make out my desires, or to take me at my word, as much as I take them at theirs. My desire has always been to live in a painfully loyal manner, to put up with petty insults from customers who know no better, leaving them to self-reflection, and if possible to repentance, while I go my peaceful way, nor let them hear their money jingle, or even spend it in their sight. To be pleased and trustful also with the folk who trust in me, and rather to abandon much, and give back twopence in a shilling, than cause any purchaser self-reproach for having sworn falsely before the bench,now if all this would not do, to keep me out of the session-books, can any man point out a clearer proof of the vicious administration of what they call "justice" around our parts? And when any trumpery case was got up, on purpose to worry and plague me, the only chance left me, of any fair-play, was to throw up my day's work, and wear out my shoes in trudging to Candleston Court, to implore that good Colonel Lougher to happen to sit on the bench that day. When those two gentlemen alighted from that rickety old coach, and ordered that very low constable to pace to and fro at the door of my house, boldly I came out to meet them, having injured no man, nor done harm of any sort that I could think of, lately. Stew came first, a man of no lineage, but pushed on by impudence; "Anthony Stew can CROSS-EXAMINATION. look you through," an English poacher said of him; and this he tried always to do with me, and thoroughly welcome he was to succeed. I will not say that my inner movements may not have been uneasy, in spite of all my rectitude; however I showed their two worships inside, in the very best style of the quarter deck, such as I had gathered from that coroneted captain, my proud connection with whom, perhaps, I may have spoken of ere this, or at any rate ought to have done so, for I had the honour of swabbing his pumps for him almost every morning; and he was kind enough to call me "Davy." Every Briton, in his own house, is bound to do his utmost; so I touched my grey forelock, and made two good bows, and set a chair for each of them, happening to have no more just now, though with plenty of money to buy them. Self-controlled as I always am, many things had tried me, of late, almost to the verge of patience; such imputations as fall most tenderly on a sorrowful widower; and my pure admiration of Bardie, and certainty of her lofty birth, had made me the more despise such foulness. So it came to pass that two scandalous men were given over by the doctors (for the pole I had cut was a trifle too thick), nevertheless they recovered bravely, and showed no more gratitude towards God, than to take out warrants against me! But their low devices were frustrated by the charge being taken before Colonel Lougher. And what did that excellent magistrate do? He felt himself compelled to do something. Therefore he fined me a shilling per head, for the two heads broken, with 10s. costs (which he paid, as usual), and gave me a very severe reprimand. "Llewellyn," he said, "the time is come for you to leave off this course of action. I do not wonder that you felt provoked; but you must seek for satisfaction in the legal channels. Suppose these men had possessed thin heads, why you might have been guilty of murder! Make out his commitment to Cardiff Gaol, in default of immediate payment." All this was good, and sustained one's faith in the efficacy of British law; and trusting that nothing might now be amiss in the minds of these two magistrates, I fetched the block of sycamore, whereupon my fish were in the habit of having their fins and tails chopped off; and there I sate down, and presented myself both ready and respectful. On the other hand, my visitors looked very grave and silent; whether it were to prolong my doubts, or as having doubts of their own, perhaps. "Your worships," I began at last, in fear of growing timorous, with any longer waiting "your worships must have driven far." "To see you, Llewellyn," Squire Stew said, with a nasty snap, hoping the more to frighten me. "Not only a pleasure to me, your worships, but a very great honour to my poor house. What will your worships be pleased to eat? Butcher's meat I would have had, if only I had known of it. But one thing I can truly say, my cottage has the best of fish." "That I can believe," said Stew; "because you sell all the worst to me. Another such a trick, Llewellyn, and I have you in the stocks." This astonished me so much for his fish had never died over four days-that nothing but my countenance could express my feelings. "I crave your pardon, Justice Stew," said the tall grey gentleman with the velvet coat, as he rose in a manner that overawed me, for he stood a good foot over Anthony Stew, and a couple of inches over me; "may we not enter upon the matter which has led us to this place?" "Certainly, Sir Philip, certainly," Stew replied, with a style which proved that Sir Philip must be of no small position; "all I meant, Sir Philip, was just to let you see the sort of fellow we have to deal with." It "My integrity is well known," I answered, turning from him to the gentleman; "not only in this parish, but for miles and miles round. is not my habit to praise myself; and in truth I find no necessity. Even a famous newspaper, so far away as Bristol, the celebrated Felix Farley's Journal' "Just so," said the elder gentleman; "it is that which has brought us here; although, as I fear, on a hopeless errand." With these words he leaned away, as if he had been long accustomed to be disappointed. To me it was no small relief to find their business peaceable, and that neither a hare which had rushed at me like a lion through a gate by moonlight, nor a stupid covey of partridges (nineteen in number, which gave me no peace while excluded from my drippingpan), nor even a pheasant cock whose crowing was of the most insulting tone, that none of these had been complaining to the bench emboldened me, and renewed my sense of reason. But I felt that Justice Stew could not be trusted for a moment to take this point in a proper light. Therefore I kept my wits in the chains, taking soundings of them both. "Now, Llewellyn, no nonsense, mind!" began Squire Stew, with his face like a hatchet, and scollops over his eyebrows: "what we are come for is very simple, and need not unsettle your conscience, as you have allowed it to do, I fear. Keep your aspect of innocent wonder for the next time you are brought before me. I only wish your fish were as bright and slippery as you are." 66 May I humbly ask what matter it pleases your worship to be thinking of?" "Oh, of course, you cannot imagine, Davy. But let that pass, as you were acquitted, by virtue of your innocent face, in the teeth of all the evidence. If you had only dropped your eyes, instead of wondering so much-but never mind, stare as you may, some day we shall be sure to have you." Now, I will put it to anybody whether this was not too bad, in my own house, and with the Bench seated on my own best chairs! How ever, knowing what a man he was, and how people do attribute to me things I never dreamed of, and what little chance a poor man has if he takes to contradiction, all I did was to look my feelings, which were truly virtuous. Nor were they lost upon Sir Philip. "You will forgive me, good sir, I hope," he said to Squire Anthony; "but unless we are come with any charge against this-Mr Llewellyn, it is hardly fair to reopen any awkward questions of which he has been acquitted. In his own house, moreover, and when he has offered kind hospitality to us—in a word, I will say no more." Here he stopped, for fear perhaps of vexing the other magistrate; and I touched my grizzled curl and said, "Sir, I thank you for a gentle can lead me to any extremes of truth; but not a lawyer, much less a justice. And Anthony Stew had no faith in truth, unless she came out to his own corkscrew. "British tar," he exclaimed, with his nasty sneer; "now for some more of your heroism! You look as if you were up for doing something very glorious. I have seen that colour in your cheeks when you sold me a sewin that shone in the dark. A glorious exploit; wasn't it now?” "That it was, your worship, to such a customer as you." While Anthony Stew was digesting this, which seemed a puzzle to him, the tall grey gentleman, feeling but little interest in my commerce, again desired to hurry matters. Forgive me again, I beseech you, good sir; but ere long it will be dark, and as yet we have learned nothing." 66 "Leave it all to me, Sir Philip; your wisest plan is to leave it to me. I know all the people around these parts, and especially this fine fellow. I have made a sort of study of him, because I consider him what I may call a thoroughly typical character.” "I am not a typical character,” I answered, over-hastily, for I found out afterwards what he meant. "I never tipple; but when I drink, my rule is to go through with it." Squire Stew laughed loud at my mistake, as if he had been a great scholar himself; and even Sir Philip smiled a little in his sweet and lofty manner. No doubt but I was vexed for a moment, scenting (though I could not see) error on my own part. But now I might defy them both, ever to write such a book as this. For vanity has always been so foreign to my nature, that I am sure to do my best, and, after all, think nothing of it, so long as people praise me. And now, in spite of all rude speeches, if Sir Philip had only come without that Squire An |