The main thing to be dreaded in men-servants—­next to downright dishonesty—­is, of course, intoxication.  If a man has been long in one’s service and gets drunk for once and away, it may well be forgiven him; but when your new servant gets drunk, wait till he is sober enough to receive his wages, and then dismiss him—­if you can.  Not long ago I had occasion to discharge a butler for habitual intoxication; he was never quite drunk, but also never quite sober; he was a sot.  I made him fetch a cab, and saw his luggage put upon it, and I tendered him his month’s wages.  But he refused to leave the house without board wages.  Of course, I declined to pay him any such thing; and, as he persisted in leaning against the dining-room door murmuring at intervals, ’I wants my board wages,’ I sent for a policeman.  ‘Be so good,’ I said,’ as to turn this drunken person out of my house.’  ’I daren’t do it, sir,’ was the reply; ‘that would be to exceed my duty.’  ’Then, why are you here?’ ’I am here, sir, to see that you turn the man out yourself without using unnecessary violence.’  ‘The man’ was six feet high and as stout as a beer-barrel.  I could no more have moved him than Skiddaw, and he knew it.  ‘I stays here,’ he chanted in his maudlin way, ’till I gets my board wages.’  Fortunately, two Oxford undergraduates happened to be in the house, to whom I mentioned my difficulty, and I shall not easily forget the delighted promptitude with which they seized upon the offender and ‘ran him out’ into the street.  He fled down the area steps at once with a celerity that convinced me he was accustomed to being turned out of houses, and tried to obtain re-admission at the back-door.  It was fortunately locked, but when I said to the policeman, ‘Now, please to remove that man,’ he answered, ’No, sir; that would be to exceed my duty; he is still upon your premises and a member of your household.’  As it was raining heavily, the delinquent, though sympathised with by a great crowd round the area railings, presently got tired of his position and went away.  But supposing my young Oxford friends had not been in the house and he had fallen upon me (a little man) in the act of expulsion; or supposing I had been a widow lady with no protector, would that too faithful retainer have remained in my establishment for ever?

I have purposely addressed myself to that large class of the community only who are said ’to keep a man-servant’—­that is, one man, assisted, perhaps, by a page.  Those who keep butler, footman, coachman, grooms, and valets are comparatively few in number, and know nothing of the inconveniences which their less wealthy fellow-countrymen endure.  In large establishments, if William is drunk, John is sober, and the work is done for the rich man by somebody; especially, too, if William is drunk, there are John and Thomas to turn him out of the house and have done with him.  But it is certain that the lower Ten Thousand are not in a satisfactory condition