146 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



have, for the most part, been my lot. I have 

 lain on my back in the green pastures and be- 

 side the still waters and thanked the God of 

 Nature that for the time being I lived and was 

 content. No jarring, clanging noises have 

 marred my sleeping hours, no grit of iron on 

 rock, no dust, no noisome odors. True, the yel- 

 low-breasted chat has at times scolded and the 

 crows jeered at me, but their rantings were of 

 little moment. Peace reigned in the old pas- 

 ture and quiet was his daily companion. Where 

 these two abide there the joy of living doth also 

 dwell. 



Being a saving sort of a creature I always 

 plan, when breaking camp, to have left as few 

 provisions as possible. This time I am running 

 a little too shy in some things. The eggs and 

 bacon were both finished for breakfast and un- 

 less I can kill a squirrel, the chances of which 

 murder are very remote, I must go meatless for 

 dinner. Were the crawfish in the brook a little 

 larger I would, as an experiment, catch a num- 

 ber and boil their tails. I have never tried 

 them but have read that they are fine. One 

 orange, two bananas, some potatoes and graham 

 crackers are what is left. Many is the time I 

 have dined on less. I forgot the sugar, solace 

 of my soul, there being a cupful of the quarter's 

 worth yet on hand. 



