five o'clock
_ -RSB- This August weather is really unbearable . Nobody but flies can be happy in it , and they are part of the general misery . I sleep with a handkerchief over my face to keep off the pests ; but I invariably wake to find one perching on every unprotected spot , and the others buzzing about my ears , and making such a noise that I ca n't sleep a wink after five o'clock . It is a very long time between five o'clock and breakfast . It would be a sufficient incentive to a blameless life , to know beforehand that you were to be condemned to think over your past for three mortal hours every morning . This is what I do ; and though I suppose I have been as respectable as most people , I find cold shivers running down my back when I remember some things , and the blushes of a girl of sixteen mounting to my wrinkled forehead , when I think of others . On the whole , the silly things are the worst .