BREAKFAST. — PIPES. — COFFEE POTS. — AKT. 10 



A few miles out of town, at the foot of a Iiill anioiio; tiie 

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

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

 of white bread and bowls of ereamj'-hued coffee disappeared 

 amid the crackle of wit and boisterous laughter and 

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

 immense faith, not misplaced, that gentlemaiil}' and civil- 

 ized dyspepsia had been slain and left l)ehin(l and that its 

 avenging ghost had lost oiu- trail. The fun had actually 

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

 childlike way in whi(;h we ate and drank what and when 

 and as much as the appetite moved and the oppoi-tvmit}" 

 (not always complaisant) ixTmittcd. 



Lighting pipes and cigars, each according to his fancy, 

 we resinned our journey over sandy I'oads, up lull and 

 down, next stopping at Prospect, a town on the Utica and 

 Black River Rail-Road. The wise, care-taking men of our 

 partj^ went about making purchases, of which a frying- 

 pan and coffee-pot were not the least important. Indeed, 

 on these two fundamental facts of camp life liang all the 

 joy or sorrow of the culinar}' (lc|)artm(mt of tent and 

 cal)in. A dozen big, blood thirsty hunting knives with 

 spick-and-span new leather belts, the latest imi)rovements 

 in air pillows, the most complicated cork-screw-lanc-et nut- 

 pick-gimlel-and-cai"pcnter sho|) jack knife, in the possession 

 of a party, nay, even a inirror and ra/.oi\ will not bring 

 happiness to that luckless camp whei-e the frying-pan is 

 not, or where the snub-nosed, l)lackened colfee-pot sings 

 not its morning, noon and evening hymn of comfort and 

 cheer. 



