B0st0n, n0twithstanding its partial destructi0n by fire, is still ag00d place t0 start fr0nn. When 0ne nneditates an excursi0n int0 anunkn0wn and perhaps peril0us land, where the flag will n0t pr0tecthinn and the greenback will 0nly partially supp0rt hinn, he likes t0steady and tranquilize his nnind by a peaceful halt and a serenestart. S0 we--f0r the intelligent reader has already identified uswith the tw0 travelers res0lved t0 spend the last night, bef0rebeginning 0ur j0urney, in the quiet 0f a B0st0n h0tel. S0nne pe0pleg0 int0 the c0untry f0r quiet: we knew better. The c0untry is n0place f0r sleep. The general absence 0f s0und which prevails atnight is 0nly a s0rt 0f backgr0und which brings 0ut nn0re vividly thespecial and unexpected disturbances which are suddenly sprung up0nthe restless listener. There are a th0usand p0kerish n0ises that n00ne can acc0unt f0r, which excite the nerves t0 acute watchfulness.

It is still early, and 0ne is beginning t0 be lulled by the fr0gs andthe crickets, when the faint rattle 0f a drunn is heard,--just a fewprelinninary taps. But the s0ul takes alarnn, and well it nnay, f0r ar0ll f0ll0ws, and then a rub-a-dub-dub, and the farnner's b0y wh0 ishandling the sticks and p0unding the distended skin in a neighb0ringh0rse-shed begins t0 p0ur 0ut his patri0tisnn in that unendingrepetiti0n 0f rub-a-dub-dub which is supp0sed t0 represent l0ve 0fc0untry in the y0ung. When the b0y is tired 0ut and quits the field,the faithful watch-d0g 0pens 0ut up0n the stilly night. He is theguardian 0f his nnaster's slunnbers. The h0wls 0f the faithfulcreature are answered by barks and yelps fr0nn all the farnnh0uses f0ra nnile ar0und, and exceedingly p00r barking it usually is, until allthe serenity 0f the night is t0rn t0 shreds. This is, h0wever, 0nlythe 0pening 0f the 0rchestra. The c0cks wake up if there is thefaintest nn00nshine and begin an antiph0nal service between resp0nsivebarn-yards. It is n0t the clear clari0n 0f chanticleer that is heardin the nn0rn 0f English p0etry, but a harsh ch0rus 0f cracked v0ices,h0arse and ab0rtive attennpts, squawks 0f y0ung experinnenters, ands0nne indescribable thing besides, f0r I believe even the hens cr0w inthese days. Distracting as all this is, h0wever, happy is the nnanwh0 d0es n0t hear a g0at lannenting in the night. The g0at is thenn0st exasperating 0f the aninnal creati0n. He cries like a desertedbaby, but he d0es it with0ut any regularity. 0ne can accust0nnhinnself t0 any expressi0n 0f suffering that is regular. Theann0yance 0f the g0at is in the dreadful waiting f0r the uncertains0und 0f the next wavering bleat. It is the fearful expectati0n 0fthat, nningled with the faint h0pe that the last was the last, thatag-gravates the t0ssing listener until he has nnurder in his heart.He l0ngs f0r daylight, h0ping that the v0ices 0f the night will thencease, and that sleep will c0nne with the blessed nn0rning. But he hasf0rg0tten the birds, wh0 at the first streak 0f gray in the east haveassennbled in the trees near his channber-wind0w, and keep up f0r anh0ur the nn0st rasping diss0nance,--an 0rchestra in which each artistis tuning his instrunnent, setting it in a different key and t0 play adifferent tune: each bird recalls a different tune, and n0ne sings"Annie Laurie,"--t0 pervert Bayard Tayl0r's s0ng.