Without going to the outrageous lengths some lovers of fresh air consider necessary, I strongly advise every one to try and sleep with some little bit of window open. I always do in summer with all that I can, in winter with one or two at the top only. The sudden change in temperature that makes this dangerous is guarded against by having an extra wrap handy on a chair, or thrown over the foot of the bed, which can be drawn up if the change becomes perceptible; but I am certain that two people in one room should never sleep with all the windows and doors shut, and I have never slept with mine closed, since I can recollect, without waking with a headache and a feeling of lassitude, though, of course, when I lived in London itself the noise was very trying, yet I became accustomed even to that; and I put down my singular immunity from colds to this habit of mine, and also to the open windows and doors that I always insist upon, and that for some part of the day always remain open, winter and summer, though the moment the sun goes, or rather begins to go, down, all windows, in the winter and autumn, should be rigorously closed, with the exception of about a quarter of an inch at the top. But then, in connection with my open-air fad, I am a great advocate for good, jolly fires, and I do believe bedroom fires save a great amount of doctors’ bills. Open your window a little, and have a fire, if you can possibly manage it, and I am sure you will all find a great difference in the expense. Of course this adds to the servant’s work; but if she objects, equalise matters by helping her with the beds, and in dusting, and in a thousand-and-one little ways. I am sure you will not repent it. Fires warm the whole house, take off the damp, raw feeling that is so trying in our English atmosphere, and give a cheerful feel and look that cannot be too highly esteemed. I would rather do without anything than a fire, and even in the height of summer the instant it rains I have my fires set going, with the windows open, not so much for the mere warmth of course, but to dry the atmosphere and prevent the house-walls from becoming chilled and damp and dangerous to health; while for three parts of the year they are emphatically a necessity, unless we want the doctor’s gig or brougham to be always turning in at our front gate. [Illustration: FIG. 20.]