And I think noblesse oblige ought to teach us another lesson in this matter of work.  So many often say, or feel, “It’s not my duty to do this or that; why should I? it’s just as much her business,—­why shouldn’t she do the dirty work?” The true lady says, “Somebody must do the dirty work, and why not I as well as another?” And so she worketh willingly with her hands; for “common household service” is

   “The wageless work of Paradise.”

“She bringeth her food from afar.”  She is foreseeing and businesslike:  she is not obliged to get inferior articles because she is driven at the last moment and cannot send to the best shop; she is never unable to match her dress because she has not thought about new gloves till the very afternoon that she wants them; she does not forget till half-past six that dinner has not been ordered, and then, in despair, order in ready-cooked things from a shop.

“She riseth while it is yet night.”  Early rising is a great trial to some, but I think those who are conscientious often make a mistake between sloth and conscientious care of health:  and the Virtuous Woman should be very careful of her health.  Some girls think it fine not to be; they say, “Oh, well, I shall only die the sooner!  Better to wear out than rust out!” and they feel—­and so do some of their friends—­that they are very noble characters, and accordingly these tragedy queens stalk picturesquely through wet grass when they could quite well keep on the gravel.  I hope none of you will develop into tragic heroines.  I have no patience when I see girls with perfectly prosperous lives inventing tragedies for themselves.  They have no right “to take in vain the sacred name of grief.”  If there is nothing else to romance about, they fall back on being “misunderstood,” which generally means that their mother understands them a great deal too well to please them.  I dare say you will not see this in yourselves or in your friends, but it will strike you very much in your acquaintances, and you will, in time, recognize your own share of human nature, for we all do, undoubtedly, enjoy being sorry for ourselves, though I suspect life is much happier for all of us than we deserve.

But to return to the question of health.  If you could go out like the flame of a candle, well and good! the world would probably be well rid of you if you were going through life tragically, longing for death, but you will not “wear out” in consequence of carelessness about wet feet and want of sleep, and over-fatigue, and fancifulness about eating.  These things destroy, not your life, but your nerves and temper, and all that makes your life a comfort to others; “wearing out” yourself means that you will wear out others, and require from them much time and nursing and good temper.

Now, sleep is a most important consideration in such a nervous generation as ours:  every woman ought to have eight hours’ sleep, and more if she needs it, but she should not wake up and then go to sleep again; that second sleep, which is so pleasant, is the sleep of the sluggard.  I would like to give her “a chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,” and never let her be woke, but she should get up the moment she wakes of her own accord, or, at most, spend ten minutes in the process of waking.