Truth to tell, I _don't_ like neighbors. I _do_ like civilization. The trouble is, neighbors are not always civilized. PUNCHINELLO will be impressed with the fact before becoming a single weekling. The first floor may be ever so nice, quiet, well-dressed, proper folks--but those dreadful musical people in the attic! I hate musical people; that is, when in the chrysalis state of learning. Practice makes perfect, indeed; but practice also makes a great deal of noise. Noise is another of my constitutional dislikes. If these matters must be divided, give me the melody, and whoever else will, may take the noise. The truth is, my dear PUNCHINELLO--and I may as well begin calling you what the public will do one of these early days--there is nothing like notes. But bank-notes are my weakness. My weakness in that direction is, I may confidently state, very strong. The ladies are not the only greenbacks that are accepted at sight; and acceptable to it. The bank on which I should like to dwell--do you not guess it?--is the auriferous National. Those musical neighbors-how they do play, though! But, to borrow from Mr. SLANG, my queer neighbor opposite, they have about played out. Our gentlemanly landlord--all landlords are so very gentlemanly, kind, good, and considerate--Mr. GRABB, says it don't pay to keep such tenants. "Mr. GRABB, pay--pray, why don't it pay?" "Why, Mr. TODD, why, sir--because _they_ don't pay. D'ye see it, Mr. TODD?" Mr. TODD did see it. "Music hath charms," and all that fine thing; but it can't evidently charm a landlord, as at present constructed, into the faith that the notes of a fiddle, a clarionet, a bugle, or a trombone are negotiable at the corner grocery, or in Wall and State streets. Going from bars to banks is a distance. But when I go anywhere, I like to have it distant. The enjoyment is invariably greater. It saves my tailors, hatters, restaurant keepers, and some others, the expense and trouble of too much correspondence. Such isn't good for the brain--especially where it is small, and easily overtaxed. "Distance lends enchantment to the view." May I ask, is or was distance in the brokerage line that it lent enchantment to the view? and what might possibly have been the conditions on which the loan was made? The man who leaves his country for its (and his) good has an especial fondness for the distant. The further off the nearer he feels like home. Australia is an El Dorado--the antipodes a celestial region. The intervening sea is one over which the most penetrating of argus-eyed policemen or sheriffs, can not see. Australia--is it not the land of gold? Who that has poached a pile does not gravitate there, as the needle to the pole? Of course, I do not mean the sewing-machine needle.