There are two things that all the boys and girls are fully agreed upon. One is, that bed-time always comes too soon, and the other, that Bridget rings the rising bell shamefully early. Getting up in the morning is a great trial to many of us. We feel so rested and comfortable, and yet so uncommonly sleepy. It seems as though our eyes would never come really wide open, and as for dressing, it is a labor that is appalling. Oh for a good fairy to touch us with her wand, and set us, bright and resolute, right out into the middle of the morning!
The way to get up in the morning is just to do it promptly. The moment you are called, decide at once to rise. Do not wait until mother's gentle voice is tired, and Sister Lucy has determined that she will not call you again, and father comes to the foot of the stair, and calls, very seriously, "William!" "Ebenezer!" "Rebecca!" and you feel that you must rise in a hurry. Do not put off getting up until you can hardly take time to match buttons and hooks, and you can not find which strings belong to each other, and suspenders snap, and buttons fly off boots, and things are generally crooked.
When first you rise, let your thoughts go to God in thankfulness that you are alive and well, and ready to begin another day. Then wash from head to foot, with a sponge and cold water, and dry yourself with a rough crash towel, or take a rub with a stiff flesh-brush. You will feel quite warm and glowing after this exercise, which is the better for being rapidly performed. Dress so neatly and entirely, to the last touch of shoe polish and the last flourish of the hair-brush, that you need think no more about your dress all day. Be sure to attend to your teeth. They are good servants, and have so much work to do that they deserve to be carefully looked after, not with irritating powders, but with a clean brush, pure water, and occasionally a dash of white Castile soap.
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London, England.
I am one of a large party, and we sailed in the Cunard steamer Atlas from Boston for Liverpool, April 23, at 4 p.m. Our friends stood on the wharf till we could see them no longer, and they had brought us flowers, grapes, eggs, and fresh butter, which we shared with our fellow-travellers.
The next day was Sunday, and the ship's surgeon read the morning service in the saloon, the sailors dressed up clean and came in, and we sang "Greenland's icy mountains" and "Nearer my God to Thee."
Not many passengers could come to dinner after the first day, for the sea grew rough, the ship rolled, the dish-racks (called the "fiddle") were put on, and the people were pale and seasick. In a few days they began to come out again; and having good weather, we saw the coast of Ireland May 3. When we stopped at Queenstown we sent up the Stars and Stripes, the English flag, and the flag of the Cunard Line on our mainmast.
The next day we reached Liverpool. Our trunks were lifted out of the hold, and we landed at 8 o'clock a.m. by a tug, and in a rain. The custom-house officers examined the luggage, and we drove to a hotel. We were glad to get rid of ship clothes, have our baths, and go early into real beds.
In Liverpool we saw St. George's Hall, and the statues of Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort Albert, and the lions on the gates. Hansoms were driving in the streets, and tulips were blooming.
The next day, May 5, we started for London, and I will tell about it in my next letter.