Six o’clock
-- in frosty weather , too ! They are clearly an isolated race , evidently possessing no sympathies or feelings in common with the rest of mankind . Your turn comes at last , and having paid the fare , you tremblingly inquire -- ` What time will it be necessary for me to be here in the morning ? ' -- ` Six o'clock , ' replies the whistler , carelessly pitching the sovereign you have just parted with , into a wooden bowl on the desk . ` Rather before than arter , ' adds the man with the semi-roasted unmentionables , with just as much ease and complacency as if the whole world got out of bed at five . You turn into the street , ruminating as you bend your steps homewards on the extent to which men become hardened in cruelty , by custom . If there be one thing in existence more miserable than another , it most unquestionably is the being compelled to rise by candlelight .