to have our breakfast. First, however, we had our customary
morning bathe, which refreshed us greatly.

I have often wondered very much in after years that the inhabitants
of my own dear land did not make more frequent use of this most
charming element, water. I mean in the way of cold bathing. Of
course, I have perceived that it is not convenient for them to go
into the sea or the rivers in winter, as we used to do on the Coral
Island; but then, I knew from experience that a large washing-tub
and a sponge do form a most pleasant substitute. The feelings of
freshness, of cleanliness, of vigour, and extreme hilarity, that
always followed my bathes in the sea, and even, when in England, my
ablutions in the wash-tub, were so delightful, that I would sooner
have gone without my breakfast than without my bathe in cold water.
My readers will forgive me for asking whether they are in the habit
of bathing thus every morning; and if they answer "No," they will
pardon me for recommending them to begin at once. Of late years,
since retiring from the stirring life of adventure which I have led
so long in foreign climes, I have heard of a system called the
cold-water-cure. Now, I do not know much about that system, so I
do not mean to uphold it, neither do I intend to run it down.
Perhaps, in reference to it, I may just hint that there may be too
much of a good thing. I know not; but of this I am quite certain,
that there may also be too little of a good thing; and the great
delight I have had in cold bathing during the course of my
adventurous career inclines me to think that it is better to risk
taking too much than to content one's self with too little. Such
is my opinion, derived from much experience; but I put it before my
readers with the utmost diffidence and with profound modesty,
knowing that it may possibly jar with their feelings of confidence