cult to see
how any business of magnitude could be carried on. Briareus himself
could not take care of a large country place, with its stables, barns,
horses, cattle, and crops, even if Mrs. B. had the same physical
advantages, and was willing to help him. Must we tempt them back by
still larger salaries, or increase their social consideration, telling
them, as a certain clergyman once said of his order, that 'they are
supported, and not hired'?--changing the word help, as we have servant,
into household officer or assistant manager, or adopt a Chinese
euphemism, such as steward of the table or governor of the kitchen?
Fourier does something of this kind; in his system the class names of
young scullions are cherubs and seraphs! Or shall we adopt the
cooeperative plan of Mill and others, and offer John an interest in the
family--say, possibly, the position of resident son-in-law after ten
years of honesty, sobriety, and industry--with a seat at table in the
mean while? Or must all the work be done by women, and a proprietor have
to seal his Biddies _more sanctorum_ in Utah? Or might not poor
relations, now confessedly nuisances, be made useful in this way? Some
marquis asked Sophie Arnould why she did not discharge her stupid
porter? 'I have often thought of it,' she answered, '_mais que voulez
vous, c'est mon pere_.'

These resources failing, we must drop to the simplest form of existence:
hut, hovel, or shanty; where my lord digs and is dirty, and her
ladyship, guiltless of Italian, French, and the grand piano, cooks,
scrubs, darns, and keeps the peace between the pigs and the children. Or
else we must come to socialism, in the shape of Brook Farm communities,
or _phalansteres a la Fourier_, or, worse than either, to mammoth
hotels. American tastes incline that way. There we may live in huge
gilded pens, as characterless as sheep in the flock, attended upon by
waiters, chambermaids, and cooks, who will have a share in the profits,
and consequently will be happy to do anything to increase the income of
their house.

I see no other remedy, and I offer this great social problem to the
serious thoughts of your readers.

Yours ever, G. V.

APHORISMS.--NO. XIII.

It was a frequent exclamation of Herder the Great: 'Oh, my life, that
has failed of its ends!' and many of us, no doubt, find ourselves
disposed to indulge in the same lament. But it deserves careful
attention; no man's life fails of its true end un