Opening Camp 



against the wall, its stout crockery and 

 plebeian tinware waiting patiently to be put 

 to service. Overhead, stretched across the 

 scantling beams, were my fishing-rods, my 

 canoe, and two canvas cots. A sink, with 

 a small square mirror hanging over it, com 

 pleted the general features of this familiar 

 interior. Is there a camper who does not 

 recognize the picture and love it ? 



My wife drove out from town, about mid- 

 forenoon, and found me, already grown 

 ravenous with hunger, washing some pota 

 toes that had sprouted in the sack. "You 

 needn't bother with them," she said. "I 

 have brought a big basketful of lunch. 

 Shall we eat it now?" There could be but 

 one interpretation of the eagerness with 

 which I scrambled for the back end of the 

 carriage; and presently we were sitting on 

 the tiny veranda of our camp, discussing 

 such chicken sandwiches and cold coffee as 

 only deft- and loving female fingers can pre 

 pare. The sun shone brightly over the 

 broad marshes; the breeze was delicious; 

 and everywhere nature's greens were so 

 fresh and vivid and intense that one behold 

 ing them could but feel a twinge of reproach 



5 65 



