Walking in moderation will be found far more advantageous to the delicate girl who would regain health than cycling. It must not be carried to the boundary line of fatigue, however. One should be just nicely pleasantly tired. Here, for instance, is a _régime_ that would suit many a lassie who had gone to some bracing delightful spot to live for the sixty or one hundred days of summer. She ought to adopt it from the very second day. Having retired early on the previous evening from quiet but non-exciting employment, having neither talked nor laughed nor sung much for the two hours previous, let her pull the window down, have sufficient bed-clothing and a not too soft mattress, and easy yielding pillows. Let her go to bed, and having done so—think of nothing. If this plan is adopted sleep will soon waft her away to the beautiful Land of Nod, and if she is breathing pure air all night she will awake betimes, refreshed and as happy as the birds on the lawn. But this awaking betimes is a _sine quâ non_ of this health-giving _régime_, so if not sure of being called by seven o’clock, she ought to have an alarm. The first thing on getting up is tonic, bracing, cold sponge-bath followed by a thorough towelling. She should not dawdle in dressing, but get out into the garden for a fifteen minutes’ walk as soon as possible. After a solid breakfast with not too much coffee or tea, the forenoon may be said to be fairly begun. And the whole of this should be spent out of doors in the sunshine or light. Even rain must not confine her to the house. If she could live in a tent entirely it would be better than a house. She ought to be back home to wash hands and face and rest a little, a good half-hour before the 1.30 dinner. Rest for half an hour after this. No wine or stimulant of any kind, and just enough solid food to satisfy the needs of nature. Soup is a mistake and so is cheese, and, as a rule, salad. Pudding is not to be eaten if there is the slightest inclination to _embonpoint_. Fruit may be partaken of at any time so long as it is quite fresh and seasonable. A little rest should be taken for say half an hour after dinner, then out again for pleasant exercise or non-exciting games. One cup of the very _best_ tea about five, and supper at seven. If sleepless and thin, a little food should be taken the very last thing, a biscuit or two with butter, and a large tumblerful of hot milk with sugar and flavouring to taste. Then meditation and bed. Really and truly a summer spent thus in fresh air, sunshine, or light will cure seventy per cent. of all chronic ailments, quite bring back appetite and happiness to the dyspeptic and gloomy, and even eradicate the first seeds of consumption itself.