at night, under the trees that adjoin the open grounds around his house.
In ancient times the commoners slept with their windows closed in winter's severe weather. The samurai, who possessed clearer notions of what health required, slept with their windows partly open. Yet, in the Japanese house even closed windows do not threaten asphyxiation. The panes are made of oiled paper, and these are rather porous. The air comes in as freely as the average hygienist would require. When the window is opened a little, sideways, the ventilation is perfect.
When it is considered that one may live a few days without water, often for a month without food, yet only for a few moments without air, it must be apparent that the Japanese are right in their insistence upon having plenty of fresh air during both waking and sleeping hours. Although these people dread neither night air nor draughts, colds and pneumonia give but little work for their physicians. Japanese physicians do not settle as thickly in any given locality as do our own practitioners in the United States.
