14000 MILES 



Nymph, our friend's steam yacht, or driven at breakneck 

 speed by one of the party who considered those perpen- 

 dicular hills "good roads." 



Only those who have tried it know the charms of 

 camping. From the time the one whose turn it is goes 

 over the pastures to get the cream for breakfast, until the 

 last one is served to cocoa at night, there is something to 

 do, and that which is work at home becomes pastime on 

 the borders of a lovely lake, with fresh air and good 

 company. We fish with great interest when a dinner 

 depends on our success; then, while the potatoes are 

 boiling is just the time for bathing, after which, the table 

 spread under the overarching trees looks very inviting. 

 When all have helped to clear away and "do up" the 

 dishes, then comes a time to separate for an hour — some 

 to write, some to sleep, and others to read Spanish, 

 English, prose or poetry, according to taste and ability. 

 As the afternoon wears away, some one proposes a 

 sunset row, and so the time too quickly flies. Rainy 

 days have a charm of their own, and all the sympathy 

 for "those people in camp" is wasted. 



We shall not soon forget our trip to Magog in the 

 Nymph. There were eight of us that afternoon, and we 

 had a delightful sail. We left the gentlemen to find 

 supplies of wood for our return trip (sometimes we 

 helped saw and carry), while we ladies went shopping. 

 We found a little store where tools, groceries, dry goods, 

 jewelry and confectionery were kept; they had no axe, 

 the only thing we wanted, so we bought lace pins at five 

 cents a pair. The clerk quietly asked if we were going to 

 have a thunder storm, which startled us, and we lost no 



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