CAMPING OUT 



geniously smoothed away. He is mis- 

 taken. In ridding himself of some of its 

 discomforts, he has lost a great deal of 

 the best of real camp life ; the spice of 

 small adventure, and the woodsy flavor 

 that its half - hardships and makeshift 

 appliances give it. If one sleeps a little 

 cold under his one blanket on his bed 

 of evergreen twigs, though he does not 

 take cold, he realizes in some degree the 

 discomfort of Boone's bivouac when he 

 cuddled beside his hounds to keep from 

 freezing — and feels slightly heroic. His 

 slumbers are seasoned with dreams of 

 the wild woods, as the balsamic perfume 

 of his couch steals into his nostrils ; his 

 companions* snores invade his drowsy 

 senses as the growl of bears, and the 

 thunderous whir of grouse bursting out 

 of untrodden thickets. When he awakes 

 in the gray of early morning he finds 

 that the few hours of sleep have wrought 

 a miracle of rest, and he feels himself 

 nearer to nature when he washes his 

 face in the brook, than when he rinses 

 off his sleepiness in bowl or basin. The 

 water of the spring is colder and has a 

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