reform, that is to abolish, the street noises of London. These noises
are constantly commented upon with much freedom in the columns of various
contemporaries. Nor is this remarkable, for persons who are occupied
with what is called "brainwork," are peculiarly sensitive to the
disturbances of the streets. Sometimes they cannot sleep till morning,
sometimes they can only sleep in the earlier watches of the night, and,
as a rule, they cannot write novels, or articles, or treatises; they
cannot compose comic operas, or paint, in the midst of a row. Now, the
streets of London are the scenes of rows at every hour of night and day-
light. It is not the roll of carriages and carts that provokes
irritation, and drives the sensitive man or woman half mad. Even the
whistling of the metropolitan trains may, perhaps, be borne with if the
drivers are not too ambitious artists, and do not attempt fantasias and
variations on their powerful instrument. The noises that ruin health,
temper, and power of work; the noises that cause an incalculable waste of
time, money, and power, are all voluntary, and perhaps preventable. Let
us examine the working hours of the nervous or irritable musician,
mathematician, man of letters, or member of Parliament. On second
thoughts, the last may be omitted, as if he cannot sleep in a tedious
debate, his case is beyond cure.

"Not bromide of potassium
Nor all the drowsy speeches in the world"

can medicine him to forgetfulness of street noises. For the others, the
day may be said to begin about five, when the voice of the chimney-sweep
is heard in the land. Here we may observe that servants are the real
causes of half the most provoking noises in London. People ask why the
sweep cannot ring the bell, like other people. But the same people
remark that even the howl of the sweep does not waken the neighbours'