“Well,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “I’ve nothin’ to say agen the Chinaman, as a Chinaman. As to ’is being a ’eathen, well, throwin’ stones at a church, as the sayin’ is, don’t make a Christian of you. There’s Christians I’ve met as couldn’t do themselves much ’arm by changing their religion; and as to cleanliness, well, I’ve never met but one, and ’e was a washerwoman, and I’d rather ’ave sat next to ’im in a third-class carriage on a Bank ’Oliday than next to some of ’em. “Seems to me,” continued Mrs. Wilkins, “we’ve got into the ’abit of talkin’ a bit too much about other people’s dirt. The London atmosphere ain’t nat’rally a dry-cleanin’ process in itself, but there’s a goodish few as seem to think it is. One comes across Freeborn Britons ’ere and there as I’d be sorry to scrub clean for a shillin’ and find my own soap.” “It is a universal failing, Mrs. Wilkins,” I explained. “If you talk to a travelled Frenchman, he contrasts to his own satisfaction the Paris _ouvrier_ in his blue blouse with the appearance of the London labourer.” “I daresay they’re all right according to their lights,” said Mrs. Wilkins, “but it does seem a bit wrong that if our own chaps are willin’ and anxious to work, after all they’ve done, too, in the way of getting the mines for us, they shouldn’t be allowed the job.” “Again, Mrs. Wilkins, it is difficult to arrive at a just conclusion,” I said. “The mine-owner, according to his enemies, hates the British workman with the natural instinct that evil creatures feel towards the noble and virtuous. He will go to trouble and expense merely to spite the British workman, to keep him out of South Africa. According to his friends, the mine-owner sets his face against the idea of white labour for two reasons. First and foremost, it is not nice work; the mine-owner hates the thought of his beloved white brother toiling in the mines. It is not right that the noble white man should demean himself by such work. Secondly, white labour is too expensive. If for digging gold men had to be paid anything like the same prices they are paid for digging coal, the mines could not be worked. The world would lose the gold that the mine-owner is anxious to bestow upon it. “The mine-owner, following his own inclinations, would take a little farm, grow potatoes, and live a beautiful life—perhaps write a little poetry. A slave to sense of duty, he is chained to the philanthropic work of gold-mining. If we hamper him and worry him the danger is that he will get angry with us—possibly he will order his fiery chariot and return to where he came from.” “Well, ’e can’t take the gold with him, wherever ’e goes to?” argued Mrs. Wilkins. “You talk, Mrs. Wilkins,” I said, “as if the gold were of more value to the world than is the mine-owner.” “Well, isn’t it?” demanded Mrs. Wilkins. “It’s a new idea, Mrs. Wilkins,” I answered; “it wants thinking out.” HOW TO SOLVE THE SERVANT PROBLEM.