ordering the great, large, quiet, orderly young man
about--shrieking calls for hot water--bullying Jeames because the boots
are not varnished enough, or ordering him to go to the stables, and ask
Jenkins why the deuce Tomkins hasn't brought his pony round--or what you
will. There is mamma rapping the knuckles of Pincot the lady's-maid,
and little Miss scolding Martha, who waits up five pair of stairs in the
nursery. Little Miss, Tommy, papa, mamma, you all expect from Martha,
from Pincot, from Jenkins, from Jeames, obsequious civility and willing
service. My dear, good people, you can't have truth too. Suppose you ask
for your newspaper, and Jeames says, "I'm reading it, and jest beg not
to be disturbed;" or suppose you ask for a can of water, and he remarks,
"You great, big, 'ulking fellar, ain't you big enough to bring it
hup yoursulf?" what would your feelings be? Now, if you made similar
proposals or requests to Mr. Jones next door, this is the kind of answer
Jones would give you. You get truth habitually from equals only; so my
good Mr. Holyshade, don't talk to me about the habitual candor of the
young Etonian of high birth, or I have my own opinion of YOUR candor or
discernment when you do. No. Tom Bowling is the soul of honor and has
been true to Black-eyed Syousan since the last time they parted at
Wapping Old Stairs; but do you suppose Tom is perfectly frank, familiar,
and aboveboard in his conversation with Admiral Nelson, K.C.B.? There
are secrets, prevarications, fibs, if you will, between Tom and the
Admiral--between your crew and THEIR captain. I know I hire a worthy,
clean, agreeable, and conscientious male or female hypocrite, at so many
guineas a year, to do so and so for me. Were he other than hypocrite
I would send him about his business. Don't let my displeasure be too
fierce with him for a fib or two on his own account.

Some dozen years ago, my family being absent in a distant part of the
country, and my business detaining me in London, I remained in my own
house with three servants on board wages. I used only to breakfast at
home; and future ages will be interested to know that this meal used
to consist, at that period, of tea, a penny roll, a pat of butter,
and, perhaps, an egg. My weekly bill used invariably to be about
fifty shillings; so that, as I never dined in the house, you see, my
breakfast, consisting of the delicacies before mentioned, cost about
seven shillings and threepence per diem.