BREAKFAST. PIPES. COFFEE POTS. AftT. 19 



A few miles out of town, at the foot of a hill among the 

 trees, in a wild sequestered spot we stopped at a little 

 rustic inn, and breakfasted. The ham and eggs and piles 

 of white bread and bowls of ereamy-hued coffee disappeared 

 amid the crackle of wit and boisterous laughter and 

 jest, like prairie grass before the leaping Maine. There was 

 immense faith, not misplaced, that gentlemanly and civil 

 i/od dyspepsia had been slain and left behind and that its 

 avenging ghost had lo^t our trail. The fun had actualU 

 begun, and not the least element of it was the reckless and 

 childlike way in which we ale and drank what and when 

 and as much as the appetite moved and the opportunity 

 (not always complaisant) permitted. 



Lighting pipes and cigars, each according to his fancy, 

 we resumed our journey over sandy roads, up hill and 

 down, next topping at I'ro-peet. a town on the Hit-Hand 

 Black River Kail IJoad. The \\i-c, care taking men of our 

 party went about making purdia>e>. of which a fniiii' 

 pan and roflW pot wen- not the least important. Indeed, 

 on these two fundamental facts of cam)) life hang all the 

 joy or >orrow of the culinary department of tent and 

 cabin. A do/en big. blood -thirsty hunting knives with 

 spiek-and spaii new leather belts, the latest improvements 

 in air pillows, the most complicated cork screw lancet nut- 

 pick gimlet-and carpenter shop jack knife, in the possession 

 of a partv, nav, esen a mirror and ra/.or. will not bring 

 happiness to that luckless camp where the frying pan IS 

 not, or where the snub-nosed, blackened coffee-pot sings 

 ,mt it- mi. ruing, noon and evening hymn of comfort and 

 cheer. 



