In the old days when I sat up late, I would be warned that morning was at hand by the soft slap-slap of rubber boots of fishermen going to work. Then came the noise of a hundred gasoline engines--first one and then another, until they made bedlam along the whole water front. Later there was a second lesser explosion of sound--the weir boats. In those days, if I worked late, some one of my neighbors would say to me, reproachfully: "Seems like you don't ever go to bed, Mis' Vorse. You work too hard. Seen your light when I went to work." I had the feeling of friends watching over me and caring whether I got my sleep.

--Mary Heaton Vorse, Time and the Town - A Provincetown Chronicle
(c. 1903)

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