The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-07-09
A City's Noises OF the Night.

1t was OF OLD supposed Dy some people
that the night was made for sleep. There
were times and places in which measure
OF correctness characterized this SUPPOSE
ton. Applied to city life it is largely
based on error. The city Is noisy both
by day and by night, and the people who
can sleep through the noises are indeed
fortunate. There are some whose pro-
fession turns night into day and day into
night. Those who prepare a morning
paper must do large part of their work
while others sleep or try to. Even to
those who stay awake at night there are
noises to which the ear cannot be closed.
Prominent among these is that of the
night hawk. This creature must not be
confounded with the night owl, which
is a bird of the country. The night
hawk of the city is predatory bird and
roosts on top of a hack. Having no
legitimate stand he is encouraged by the
police to move on. and keeps moving on
all the time he is engaged in his nocturnal
excursions. He is on the lookout for
anybody whom he can, induce to take
passage in his vehicle, but prefers those
who are gently inebriated. Hour after
hour he drives his vampire-like steeds
with slow and measured tread along the
pavement. A foot pilgrim with hand
luggage is boon to him, if from the
country and unlearned as to hack rates;
but drunkard is a God-send, especially
if with full pockets and too far gone in
inebriety to resist illegal taxation.
In sections of the city where the night
hawk plieth not his trade there are noises
of various grades and styles. Street cars
keep up their racket till after midnight,
and begin so early in the morning that
the sleeper is unconscious of any inter.
mission. Cats lift their lofty voices and
entertain whole communities with free
concerts. In the old days of the volun-
teer department the fire bells would
arouse the sleepers of q whole city to tell
them that somebody's chimney was on
fire. Happily that clangor no longer
disturbs US, and when there is a contia-
grafton we hear only the rumble of the
engines along the streets. To the weary
sleeper who wants good nights rest it
is nuisance to be disturbed an hour
past midnight by the intoxicated neigh
Dor who cannot make his night-key fit
the hole in the door. After struggling
awhile and profanely soliloquizing in
his loudest and thickest tones, he kicks
the front door several times with all his
might. This brings a night-capped
head from an upper window, and a
demand for information as to who is
there. The response, "itsh mee-lemme
in, brings forth an angry remark to the
effect-that the inebriate has come to the
wrong house. Then the upper window
is shut with slam, which brings sew
eral more heads to other windows in the
vicinity, each intent on knowing who is
firing guns in the street. The tipsy out
slider tries several other doors withou ut
achieving marked success, and after
worrying his neighbors out Of more
sleep is taken care of by the police and
clubbed into peaceful quietude. AS the
night progresses the ice carts furnish
their contribution of racket. A process
sion of them bangs its noisy way along
the street, and the drivers hold trumpet
toncued conversation with each other,
which they hurl from cart to cart as
they ride. Their rumble is hardly done
before the milkmen begin. The noise of
the ice cart is solid and solemn, but that
of the rattling contents OF the milk
wagon is ten times more worrisome.
The milkman drives along in hot haste,
and his tin cans knock against each
other as if each were bent on shattering
the empty heads Of all its fellows.
After giving weary attention to the clat-
ter of the milk cans until almost ready to
drop asleep from exhaustion, the sleeper
is startled by another and even more
outrageous noise. It is the noise of the
singing birds. The neighbors keep fowls.
The ostentatious rooster mounts fence
and officiously declares to all within
reach of the blast of his awful voice that
he thinks he begins to discern symptoms
of approaching dawn, and that, accord
ing to his belief, it will soon be time to
get up. 1t is in vain to protest. The
rooster must have his way. BootjacHs
and ink bottles may be thrown at the
midnight cat, who will be silent for a
few moments while lodging these mis-
siles. The wicked rooster, whose noise
is more penetrating than the combined
doxology of forty cats, will not pause
for all the missiles of the neighborhood,
but keeps right on speaking his little
piece, and will not stop until he has
faithfully executed his whole contract
And yet we will not ask for refuge in
the deaf and dumb asylum. If the noises
of the night are freighted with objec-
tionable elements, there is much by day
to regale the ear as sunshine delights
the eye. Some of these nocturnal nuis-
ances are inseparable from the blessings
of civilization. Let US rejoice that we
are civilized, and take cOmfort.-Ph1tG-
dp2Dhin Times.