clothes are altogether a great nuisance, i think. how tired you get of the regular routine of the morning toilet; always the same, never any variety. why are we not born, like dogs, with nice cosy rugs all over us, so that we should just have to get out of bed in the morning, shake ourselves and be ready at once to go down to breakfast and do the business of the day?
'ah well! god knows what's best for us all,' as an old charwoman said to me, years ago, when she was remarking on how i had grown. i never saw the application of the remark and do not think i ever shall. whether my growth was a subject to deplore, and she tried to comfort me, or not, i cannot say; but she was evidently proud of the remark, for she repeated it three times!'