“No,” said Mr. Dooley, “I wudden't. I'd rather be Dooley iv Chicago than th' Earl iv Peltvule. It must be that I'm iv th' fightin' kind.” SERVANT GIRL PROBLEM Whin Congress gets through expellin' mimbers that believes so much in mathrimony that they carry it into ivry relation iv life an' opens th' dure iv Chiny so that an American can go in there as free as a Chinnyman can come into this refuge iv th' opprissed iv th' wurruld, I hope'twill turn its attintion to th' gr-reat question now confrontin' th' nation--th' question iv what we shall do with our hired help. What shall we do with thim? “We haven't anny,” said Mr. Hennessy. “No,” said Mr. Dooley. “Ar-rchey r-road has no servant girl problem. Th' rule is ivry woman her own cook an' ivry man his own futman, an' be th' same token we have no poly-gamy problem an' no open dure problem an' no Ph'lippeen problem. Th' on'y problem in Ar-rchey r-road is how manny times does round steak go into twelve at wan dollar-an-a-half a day. But east iv th' r-red bridge, Hinnissy, wan iv th' most cryin' issues iv th' hour is: What shall we do with our hired help? An' if Congress don't take hold iv it we ar-re a rooned people.” “'Tis an ol' problem an' I've seen it arise an' shake its gory head ivry few years whiniver th' Swede popylation got wurruk an' begun bein' marrid, thus rayjoocin' th' visible supply iv help. But it seems 'tis deeper thin that. I see be letters in th' pa-apers that servants is insolent, an' that they won't go to wurruk onless they like th' looks iv their employers, an' that they rayfuse to live in th' counthry. Why anny servant shud rayfuse to live in th' counthry is more thin I can see. Ye'd think that this disreputable class'd give annything to lave th' crowded tinimints iv a large city where they have frinds be th' hundherds an' know th' polisman on th' bate an' can go out to hateful dances an' moonlight picnics--ye'd think these unforchnate slaves'd be delighted to live in Mulligan's subdivision, amid th' threes an' flowers an' bur-rds. Gettin' up at four o'clock in th' mornin' th' singin' iv th' full-throated alarm clock is answered be an invisible choir iv songsters, as Shakespere says, an' ye see th' sun rise over th' hills as ye go out to carry in a ton iv coal. All day long ye meet no wan as ye thrip over th' coal-scuttle, happy in ye'er tile an' ye'er heart is enlivened be th' thought that th' childher in th' front iv th' house ar-re growin' sthrong on th' fr-resh counthry air. Besides they'se always cookin' to do. At night ye can set be th' fire an' improve ye'er mind be r-readin' half th' love story in th' part iv th' pa-aper that th' cheese come home in, an' whin ye're through with that, all ye have to do is to climb a ladder to th' roof an' fall through th' skylight an' ye're in bed.” {Illustration}