is
so common, at least, as almost to be the rule, and partly accounts for
the rapid disappearance of the indigenous "domestic" from the basements
above mentioned. Paleontologists will by and by be examining the floors
of our kitchens for tracks of the extinct native species of serving-man.
The female of the same race is fast dying out; indeed, the time is not
far distant when all the varieties of young woman will have vanished from
New England, as the dodo has perished in the Mauritius. The young lady
is all that we shall have left, and the mop and duster of the last Ahnira
or Loizy will be stared at by generations of Bridgets and Noras as that
famous head and foot of the lost bird are stared at in the Ashmolean
Museum.

Abel Stebbins, the Doctor's man, took the true American view of his
difficult position. He sold his time to the Doctor, and, having sold it,
he took care to fulfil his half of the bargain. The Doctor, on his part,
treated him, not like a gentleman, because one does not order a gentleman
to bring up his horse or run his errands, but he treated him like a man.
Every order was given in courteous terms. His reasonable privileges were
respected as much as if they had been guaranteed under hand and seal.
The Doctor lent him books from his own library, and gave him all friendly
counsel, as if he were a son or a younger brother.

Abel had Revolutionary blood in his veins, and though he saw fit to "hire
out," he could never stand the word "servant," or consider himself the
inferior one of the two high contracting parties. When he came to live
with the Doctor, he made up his mind he would dismiss the old gentleman,
if he did not behave according to his notions of propriety. But he soon
found that the Doctor was one of the right sort, and so determined to
keep him. The Doctor soon found, on his side, that he had a trustworthy,
intelligent fellow, who would be invaluable to him, if he only let him
have his own way of doing what was to be done.

The Doctor's hired man had not the manners of a French valet. He was
grave and taciturn for the most part, he never bowed and rarely smiled,
but was always at work in the daytime, and always reading in the evening.
He was hostler, and did all the housework that a man could properly do,
would go to the door or "tend table," bought the provisions for the
family,--in short, did almost everything for them but get their clothing.
There was no office in a perfectly appo