and do the work generally of a three- or four-story house as it should be done. In a household of that importance in England there would be hired, at the least, cook and under-servant, housemaid and Buttons, and all the laundry-work put out. And oh how smoothly life passes in such an English home! How brightly every inch of brass shines! how well dusted is every article you touch! how clear is the crystal for table use! how spotless the napery! how noiselessly your servants move about! how respectfully each addresses the heads of the household whenever required to do so, not otherwise! It is the very perfection of service, and a luxurious satisfaction which we in America rarely get a chance to enjoy. But the times are changing now. It may be possible that in the future the demand-and-supply market for domestic service may have so settled itself that for the money we have hitherto paid as yearly wages to two only tolerable servants we shall obtain the services of as many efficient ones as are needful to make our American homes the equal of those in England for the quiet perfection of their interior management. OLIVE LOGAN. OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. FERNAN CABALLERO. About thirty years ago there appeared in the _Heraldo_ of Madrid a novel called _La Gaviota_ ("The Sea-gull"). Spanish literature at the present day is poor in novels, and thirty years ago it was much poorer. _La Gaviota_ was like a tall tiger-lily suddenly appearing among low-growing exotics. The book was what the French call a _roman de moeurs_: it was signed with an unknown name--Fernan Caballero. Nobody knew Fernan Caballero. Madrid concluded that it must be one of those great living writers whose names could be counted on the first five sticks of a lady's fan. Seville ascribed it to an author of local fame, and Cadiz was amazed by the fact that anything so good could come out of Spain. The novel was eagerly read, even by the Gallicanized element in society, and pronounced a success in all things, except that it was not French. Following _La Gaviota_, _La España_ published _Elia_ in its columns: then followed _La Familia Alvareda_, _Una en Otra_, _Pobre Dolores_, _Lucas Garcia_ and others. It became evident that the masked writer was a woman, but not one of those _femmes auteurs_ of whom Louis Veuillot says, with more force than elegance, "Il me semble que si ma femme signait tels livres, j'aurais scrupule à signer ses enfants." Her thoughts were pure and high, and every detail was gifted with life.