132 THE HUNTING FIELD 



herring must hang by its own head," as the sapng is, 

 and servants must take each place upon its individual 

 merits, without reference or regard to what is done or 

 allowed at another. No master ought to allow a 

 servant to quote the doings of another place to him. 

 These observations are peculiarly applicable at the 

 present time, for the increased and increasing facilities 

 of communication, as well by post as by railway, have 

 brought about such a system of note comparing and 

 laying heads together, that half the servants are agog 

 to know what the other half have. Then if Tom 

 Brown finds out that Harry Jones has a couple of 

 pounds a-year more than himself, he feels it a point 

 of honour to ask to have his wages raised, forgetful 

 very likely of the fact that he is in possession of a 

 couple a pounds a-year more than Giles Scroggins 

 at some other place. Ai* servant's sliding scale only 

 knows the ascendant. The breed of old attached 

 family servants, so beautifully described by Washing- 

 ton Irving, will be almost extinct with their generation. 

 Few new ones are rising up to supply their places. It 

 may save annuities to expectant heirs, but we much 

 question whether the new system is better for the 

 general interest of famiUes. 



There are no people under the sun so well done by 

 as gentlemen's servants. They live on the fat of the 

 land, have no cares, no anxieties, and are paid out of 

 all proportion to their labouring brethren. An in- 

 flated beef and beer bursting bragger will assert that 

 he can do what a labouring man cannot; but a 

 handy labouring man will do his own work and the 

 braggart's at his leisure hours. What are the gener- 

 ality of servants, in fact, but part and parcel of the 

 labouring population? They are not a bit better 

 educated ; if they were, they would aspire to clerk- 

 ships or shopmen's places. All the difference is that 

 one lights on his legs in gentleman's service, the 

 other sticks to the spade, the axe, or the trowel, and, 



