one point all the rays of light that strike upon it.  Noisy interruption is a hindrance to this concentration.  That is why distinguished minds have always shown such an extreme dislike to disturbance in any form, as something that breaks in upon and distracts their thoughts.  Above all have they been averse to that violent interruption that comes from noise.  Ordinary people are not much put out by anything of the sort.  The most sensible and intelligent of all nations in Europe lays down the rule, Never Interrupt! as the eleventh commandment.  Noise is the most impertinent of all forms of interruption.  It is not only an interruption, but also a disruption of thought.  Of course, where there is nothing to interrupt, noise will not be so particularly painful.  Occasionally it happens that some slight but constant noise continues to bother and distract me for a time before I become distinctly conscious of it.  All I feel is a steady increase in the labor of thinking—­just as though I were trying to walk with a weight on my foot.  At last I find out what it is.  Let me now, however, pass from genus to species.  The most inexcusable and disgraceful of all noises is the cracking of whips—­a truly infernal thing when it is done in the narrow resounding streets of a town.  I denounce it as making a peaceful life impossible; it puts an end to all quiet thought.  That this cracking of whips should be allowed at all seems to me to show in the clearest way how senseless and thoughtless is the nature of mankind.  No one with anything like an idea in his head can avoid a feeling of actual pain at this sudden, sharp crack, which paralyzes the brain, rends the thread of reflection, and murders thought.  Every time this noise is made, it must disturb a hundred people who are applying their minds to business of some sort, no matter how trivial it may be; while on the thinker its effect is woeful and disastrous, cutting his thoughts asunder, much as the executioner’s axe severs the head from the body.  No sound, be it ever so shrill, cuts so sharply into the brain as this cursed cracking of whips; you feel the sting of the lash right inside your head; and it affects the brain in the same way as touch affects a sensitive plant, and for the same length of time.

With all due respect for the most holy doctrine of utility, I really cannot see why a fellow who is taking away a wagon-load of gravel or dung should thereby obtain the right to kill in the bud the thoughts which may happen to be springing up in ten thousand heads—­the number he will disturb one after another in half an hour’s drive through the town.  Hammering, the barking of dogs, and the crying of children are horrible to hear; but your only genuine assassin of thought is the crack of a whip; it exists for the purpose of destroying every pleasant moment of quiet thought that any one may now and then enjoy.  If the driver had no other way of urging on his horse than by making this most abominable of all noises,