privileges to be allowed a man in proportion to his ability of keeping
early hours, the work given his faculties, etc., will at least concede
their due merits to such representations as the following. In the
first place, says the injured but calm appealer, I have been warm all
night, and find my system in a state perfectly suitable to a
warm-blooded animal. To get out of this state into the cold, besides
the inharmonious and uncritical abruptness of the transition, is so
unnatural to such a creature, that the poets, refining upon the
tortures of the damned, make one of their greatest agonies consist in
being suddenly transported from heat to cold,--from fire to ice. They
are "haled" out of their "beds," says Milton, by "harpy-footed
furies,"--fellows who come to call them. On my first movement towards
the anticipation of getting up, I find that such parts of the sheets
and bolster, as are exposed to the air of the room, are stone-cold. On
opening my eyes, the first thing that meets them is my own breath
rolling forth, as if in the open air, like smoke out of a cottage
chimney. Think of this symptom. Then I turn my eyes sideways and see
the window all frozen over. Think of that. Then the servant comes in.
"It is very cold this morning, is it not?"--"Very cold, Sir."--"Very
cold indeed, isn't it?"--"Very cold indeed, Sir."--"More than usually
so, isn't it, even for this weather?" (Here the servant's wit and
good-nature are put to a considerable test, and the inquirer lies on
thorns for the answer.) "Why, Sir ... I think it _is_." (Good
creature! There is not a better, or more truth-telling servant going.)
"I must rise, however--get me some warm water."--Here comes a fine
interval between the departure of the servant and the arrival of the
hot water; during which, of course, it is of "no use" to get up. The
hot water comes. "Is it quite hot?"--"Yes, Sir."--"Perhaps too hot for
shaving: I must wait a little?"--"No, Sir; it will just do." (There is
an over-nice propriety sometimes, an officious zeal of virtue, a
little troublesome.) "Oh--the shirt--you must air my clean
shirt;--linen gets very damp this weather."--"Yes, Sir." Here another
delicious five minutes. A knock at the door. "Oh, the shirt--very
well. My stockings--I think the stockings had better be aired
too."--"Very well, Sir."--Here another interval. At length everything
is ready, except myself. I now, continues our incumbent (a happy word,
by the bye, for a coun