To meet his view, as well as to satisfy her own conscience, his partner became a model manager, a woman of "faculty." I saw her last year in the incurable ward of a madhouse.

From sunrise until dark, except when forced to take her meals, she stood at one window and polished one pane with her apron, a plait like a trench between her puckered brows, her mouth pursed into an anguished knot, her hollow eyes drearily anxious--the saddest picture I ever beheld, most awfully sad because she was a type of a class.
Some men--and they are not all ignorant men--are beginning to be alarmed at the press of women into other--I had almost said any other--avenues of labor than that of housewifery.

Eagerness to break up housekeeping and try boarding for a while, in order "to get rested out," is not confined to the incompetent and the indolent.

Nor is it altogether the result of the national discontent with "the greatest plague of life"-- servants.
American women, from high to low, keep house too hard because too ambitiously.
It is, furthermore, ambition without knowledge; hence, misdirected.

We have the most indifferent domestic service in the world, but we employ, as a rule, too few servants, such as they are.