In the Sierra 



not too much, and there are the stars shin- 

 ing through the cedar plumes and branches 

 above our beds. 



July 7. Rather weak and sickish this 

 morning, and all about a piece of bread. 

 Can scarce command attention to my best 

 studies, as if one could n't take a few days' 

 saunter in the Godful woods without main- 

 taining a base on a wheat-field and grist- 

 mill. Like caged parrots we want a cracker, 

 any of the hundred kinds, the remainder 

 biscuit of a voyage around the world would 

 answer well enough, nor would the whole- 

 someness of saleratus biscuit be questioned. 

 Bread without flesh is a good diet, as on many 

 botanical excursions I have proved. Tea 

 also may easily be ignored. Just bread and 

 water and delightful toil is all I need, not 

 unreasonably much, yet one ought to be 

 trained and tempered to enjoy life in these 

 brave wilds in full independence of any par- 

 ticular kind of nourishment. That this may 

 be accomplished is manifest, as far as bodily 



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