XXXII. 



iRotse. 



I WONDER if it has ever occurred to any of my readers 

 that this "fine old world of ours" would be a very 

 much improved planet if its noises were reduced to a 

 minimum, or, mayhap, abolished altogether. Person- 

 ally, I have often been given to lament the noise and 

 clamour of life ; and the topic of noise, in relation to 

 our peace, comfort, and health, has been forced upon 

 my attention of late in more ways than one. A recent 

 Continental tour has impressed me very forcibly with 

 the fact that hotel-keepers might do a worse thing (in 

 the way of business) than advertise (and ensure) that 

 their caravanserais are quiet and free from the clamour 

 and din which beset these establishments as a rule. 



What is true of foreign hotels is equally true of 

 English ones, and, one may add, of not a few of our 

 homes as well. We really suffer from noise much 

 more acutely and severely than we suppose. Later 

 on, I will recur to the physiological side of this social 

 nuisance, but it is easy enough to indict it, on plain 

 grounds, in the first instance. At Scheveningen, for 

 instance, I inhabited a room which, unfortunately for 

 me, looked out on the street that leads from the town 

 to the beach. When the fishing-boats arrive, carts 

 trundle up and down this street all night long. You 



