Isle of Wight Observer November 5, 1864
To the Editor of the Isle of Wight Observer Sir, – I have been staying in the town of Ryde for some weeks, and rarely can obtain a quiet night, so frequently am I disturbed and kept awake by the barking of dogs in the street beneath my window for hours together. Often the bark is the deep note of a retriever or Newfoundland; the next night it is a sharp little terrier’s cry, and this very night there are three in chorus – one bass and two trebles – which have made me seek pen, ink and paper forthwith, to make my appeal to you. I believe the dogs are as unwilling to disturb me as I am to be disturbed. One can generally tell the note of a dog which is regularly fed and cared for from that of a homeless wanderer, and it is because I believe that this nuisance is caused by the want of thought of domestic servants, who shut out the household friend and guardian rather than take the trouble to look for him that I address you, believing also the cure to be within reach. There must be more than one invalid in Ryde, tormented as I am, who must be, like myself, tormented out of sleep they can ill spare; and I have more than once heard some distant door open, and the poor dog, too thankful for his admittance, has been heard no more. The dog within our house is its best earthly guard; he disturbs no one, unless at the approach of evil. But those who leave these faithful servants to wander without shelter through much or all of the lengthened nights of this season, by their cruel want of care, force the dog to seek shelter by the only means he possesses, till some one, for peace sake, descends to open the door to the long expectant and unwilling wanderer. This, I am thankful to say, has this moment ended three hours of racking noise.
Your obedient servant,
A (WOULD-BE) SLEEPER
Ryde, October 25, 1864.
Sir, – As there is now somewhat of tranquility and apparently an entire cessation of cannonading, I beg to seize the opportunity of calling your attention, and the inhabitants generally, to the considerable annoyance and confusion (especially to us writers, and it is this class of individuals I so strongly sympathise with) arising from these continuous and long protracted combustables of powder and shot, which must be equally as confusing to others as ourselves. I do not intend trespassing too much on your space, only it is a very good thing that charitable institution is in that part of the town where it is, otherwise I would give but little for the benefits accruing from it.
Your’s obediently,
J D Cork.
High-street, Ryde, November 2, 1864.
