[Illustration]

   "But wud ye believe it, Hinnissy, manny iv these misguided women
rayfuse f'r to take a job that aint in a city. They prefer th' bustle
an' roar iv th' busy marts iv thrade, th' sthreet car, th' saloon on
three corners an' th' church on wan, th' pa-apers ivry mornin' with
pitchers iv th' s'ciety fav'rite that's just thrown up a good job at
Armours to elope with th' well-known club man who used to be yard-
masther iv th' three B's, G, L, & N., th' shy peek into th' dhry-goods
store, an' other base luxuries, to a free an' healthy life in th'
counthry between iliven P.M. an' four A.M. Wensdahs an' Sundahs. 'Tis
worse thin that, Hinnissy, f'r whin they ar-re in th' city they seem to
dislike their wurruk an' manny iv thim ar-re givin' up splindid jobs
with good large families where they have no chanst to spind their
salaries, if they dhraw thim, an' takin' places in shops, an' gettin'
marrid an' adoptin' other devices that will give thim th' chanst f'r to
wear out their good clothes. 'Tis a horrible situation. Riley th'
conthractor dhropped in here th' other day in his horse an' buggy on his
way to the dhrainage canal an' he was all wurruked up over th' question.
'Why,' he says, ''tis scand'lous th' way servants act,' he says. 'Mrs.
Riley has hystrics,' he says. 'An' ivry two or three nights whin I come
home,' he says, 'I have to win a fight again' a cook with a stove lid
befure I can move me family off th' fr-ront stoop,' he says. 'We threat
thim well too,' he says. 'I gave th' las' wan we had fifty cints an' a
cook book at Chris'mas an' th' next day she left befure breakfast,' he
says. 'What naytionalties do ye hire?' says I. 'I've thried thim all,'
he says, 'an',' he says, 'I'll say this in shame,' he says, 'that th'
Irish ar-re th' worst,' he says. 'Well,' says I, 'ye need have no
shame,' I says, 'f'r'tis on'y th' people that ar-re good servants
that'll niver be masthers,' I says. 'Th' Irish ar-re no good as servants
because they ar-re too good,' I says. 'Th' Dutch ar-re no good because
they aint good enough. No matther how they start they get th' noodle
habit. I had wan, wanst, an' she got so she put noodles in me tay,' I
says. 'Th' Swedes ar-re all right but they always get marrid th' sicond
day. Ye'll have a polisman at th' dure with a warrant f'r th' arrist iv
ye'er cook if ye hire a Boheemyan,' I says. 'Coons'd be all right but
they're liable f'r to hand ye ye'er food in ragtime, an' if ye ordher
pork-chops f'r dinner an' th' hall is long,'tis little ye'll have to eat
whin th' platter's set down,' I says. 'No,' says I, 'they'se 

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