They were too playfully impetuous, and we had to give them up as indoor servants.

We had a Monkey Butler one season, and nothing could induce him to serve our dinner in that dignified fashion in which a dinner should be served.

He would pass the soup with one paw, the fish with the other, while serving the bread with his tail, and all simultaneously, so that instead of dinner becoming a peaceful meal, it was at all times, a highly excitable function that left us all in a state of trembling nervousness when it was over.

Try as we might we could not induce them to do one thing at a time, and finally when this particular butler, to whom I have referred, instead of standing as he was instructed to do behind Adam's chair, insisted on swinging from the chandelier over the center of the table suspended by his caudal appendage, we decided that we would rather wait on ourselves." Asked once if she had not found the primitive life uncomfortable, she shook her head in a decided negative.
[Illustration: Eve's Scrap Book.] "There were too many compensations in our freedom from the things that make your social life of to-day a complex problem," she replied.

"In the first place I never had to worry much over Adam.