SUPPEE. 257 



little round eggs in one of the tin cups, singing all the 

 while, with a merry tone 



" Who can help loving the land that has taught us 

 Six hundred and eighty-five ways to cook eggs." 



When they were all broken he set one of the men at 

 work to beat them up with, a bundle of switches, and 

 turned his attention to tasting the stew, that was being 

 seasoned from the contents of the mess-box, and tasted 

 by all the persons who expected to eat therefrom. Each 

 one gave his opinion, and each one was finally satisfied ; 

 the Doctor threw in six turtle eggs for my satisfaction, 

 and allowed an additional pod of red pepper for Jack- 

 son's decided taste for spices, while a fox squirrel, that is 

 a dry kind of gymnast for cooking alone, was quartered, 

 and thrown in to complete the mess. 



" Round about the caldron go, 

 In the poison 1 d entrails throw ; 

 Double, double, toil and trouble," 



began the Doctor in a declaiming voice. 



" Hold your tongue, destroyer of appetites !" called 

 out Lou Jackson ; " don't mix bad ideas with the stew ; 

 that is worse than putting in tough meat." 



" Poetry, ma'am, is never out of place," answered the 

 Doctor, gesticulating with the forked stick with which he 

 was stirring the stew.* "Poetry is salt to life's omelette; 

 poetry is the poor man's gold the coffee to a dinner. 

 You Sam, twist the ducks ; don't you see they've 



