The crowing of one or
two cocks made me understand how dreadfully still everything was. The
stillness of the very early morning is quite different from that of the
night. During the latter people are asleep, and may be presumed to be
happy. In the former they are about to wake up and be miserable. That,
at least, was my notion, as I walked into the little village.
Not a creature did I see; not a sound did I hear except my own
footsteps. Presently I saw a cat run around the corner of a house, and
this was a relief. I walked on past a wide space, in which there were no
houses, when I came to a small, irregularly built white house, in front
of which hung a sign bearing the inscription "Central Hotel." If
anything could have made me more disgusted with the world than I then
was, it was this sign. If the name of this miserable little country
tavern had been anything suitable to itself and the place, if it had
been called The Plough and Harrow, The Gray Horse, or even The Blue
Devil, I think I should have been glad to see it. A village inn might
have been a point of interest to me, but Central Hotel in this mournful
settlement of small farmers and fishermen,--it was ridiculous!
However, the door of the house was open, and inside was a man sweeping
the sanded floor.
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