In badly-constructed and ill-arranged houses, how often do we hear the inhabitants complain of what is technically called "draught," which means sudden and irregular change of temperature! Unpleasant as it is in itself, it is most insidious and dangerous in its results, bringing about colds, chills, and general "disturbance in the circulation of the organs of the body."
It is unnecessary to dwell further upon the numerous ills which we have it in our power to lessen, or altogether get rid of, by attention to the general construction of the houses we live in. I can only insist generally, with Dr. Richardson, that "the intention and object of domestic sanitation is so to construct houses for human beings, or, if the houses be constructed, so to improve them, that the various diseases and ailments incident to bad construction may be removed to the fullest possible extent. The diseases need not be looked upon as necessities of existence, but may be recognized as results of ignorance, or as accidents which, though they may not spring from sheer and wanton ignorance, are removable by accurate foreseeing and all-providing knowledge."
In towns, where, for the most part, all houses are built in groups, either in streets, terraces, or squares, and rarely detached, the general aspect is naturally fixed by the location of the building, and the laying out of the street or terrace of which the particular house already forms or is to form a part; and, therefore, it is of the utmost importance as far as possible to secure as much light and sun as can be obtained by the slightly varied aspect which is given by semi-octagonal or circular projecting windows with side-lights, more especially where the plotting of the site lies more or less due north and south.
Nothing can be more miserable and unartistic, nothing more insulting to good taste, than the dreary monotony and vulgarity of most London streets, old and new. How much more artistic and picturesque could our streets be made if broken up with bays and gables, cutting up the sky-line, like the streets in many of the old towns in Germany and Belgium; and how much more cheerful and healthy would be the rooms wherein these bays are thrown out, and through which sun, air, and light can be obtained in more ample quantity, than by means of the two or three parallelogram-shaped openings which generally form the windows in most London fronts! Anyway, there is an old adage, which is more or less true, that, "where the sun does not enter, sickness in some sort or way is sure to obtain." We do not get too much sun in smoke-covered towns; and surely every possible allowance, consistent of course with what is due to the comfort and enjoyment of our neighbors, should be made for flat-sided projections, by which more sun and light can be given to our homes.
Fancy being on the south side of a street, where the windows face due north, and into which, for nearly the whole of the year, the sun can never shine, save very occasionally in thin, slantwise streaks. Were
