One thing no dweller in the ordinary suburban residence should be without, and that is a wedge of wood attached to a brass chain to each window, ready to wedge the window closely together should a storm suddenly arise in the night. Who has not risen irate at the dismal rattling, and crammed in anything--toothbrush, comb, or what not--sacrificing often enough one or the other in one’s rage at not being able in a moment to put a stop to this intolerable nuisance? Now a wedge ready to hand, nailed to the window by its chain, so that it cannot be lost or mislaid, obviates all this, and the window is secured at once and rest is insured simply by a little precaution and forethought. I believe that Whiteley keeps these wedges, but I used to buy mine of a clergyman in Dorset, who made them beautifully, and sold them in bunches in aid of the fund for restoring his church, and so popular were they that he made quite a nice little sum by their sale; but then Dorset is a very windy county, and I think the windows there rattle more than anywhere else. Another thing should be secured, and that is a matchbox nailed to the wall, close by the bed, and the servant should be strictly forbidden ever to take the matches from one room to another; there should be a match-box _nailed on_ in each room and in the passages, and Angelina should see herself that matches are never lacking there. I buy Bryant and May’s boxes, but not their matches, as they are expensive, but I always have tiny boxes of Swedish matches at 5_s._ the gross, a gross lasting me considerably over a year; naturally I keep them locked in a store cupboard, in a room where there is sufficient warmth to keep them dry, and the maids have to ask me for them when they are required. When I used Bryant and May’s matches and had them in as wanted from the grocer, I never spent less than 6_d._ and sometimes 1_s._ a week upon them, so I consider my present plan worth mentioning, for the save is really great, and in these small items much can be economised, if only one has a little knowledge and keeps one’s eyes open. But the matchboxes and wedges must be nailed on, or else they will disappear in the same extraordinary way pins and hair-pins always contrive to do. Then, in bedrooms and sitting-rooms alike, I have the most delightful tiny brass hooks on which I hang a hearth-brush, for I have an immense dislike to an untidy and dirty hearth. As my old nurse used to say, ‘These sort of things don’t eat anything,’ and a brush lasts five times as long if it have not to migrate from one room to another, and can instead have its own especial hook. You can buy ugly black hearth-brushes at 1_s._ 3_d._, but I always buy brass ones at 4_s._ 11½_d._ They last for years and years, and then can have new bristles added at the cost of 1_s._; they look nice too, and are always to hand when wanted.