Life in camp, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in the mountains and by the sea or inland lakes and rivers, has a peculiar charm, not the least of which is found in the camp cookery. Epicures whose palates are tired of entrees and game in city restaurants, who fret and fume if their planked steak is not to their liking, or if the after-dinner coffee has not the desired soupcon of chicory, will eat like lumbermen when fed upon camp rations, with never a word save of praise for the camp cook. Possibly it's a matter of environment; for Mother Nature has a way of soothing tired nerves and of tickling jaded palates to such an extent that the humblest fare is fit for a king, and the muddiest camp coffee nectar to the tired, hungry man just in from a day's fishing or hunting in the wilds.

Most men who camp do not need to be told the little things that combine to make camping comfortable: how to dig a trench around the tent and how to make a stone fireplace or a stove from rocks and an old stove-top; or how to shave off fir boughs for a hard but fragrant bed.

They all know that a deep hole should be dug some distance from camp in which to throw refuse and debris, covering it daily with fresh earth, which so quickly kills all odors. They know the staple rations to be taken - prepared flour for griddle-cakes and hot bread, with rising already in it; salt pork, smoked ham and bacon, dried beef, salt fish in case the fresh ones fail to bite; pilot-bread, crackers, and biscuit of all sorts, potatoes, beans, onions, canned fruit and vegetables where fresh cannot be obtained; Indian meal, salt, sugar, pepper, mustard, molasses, vinegar, butter, tea, coffee, chocolate - powdered and sweet - rice, oatmeal, baking soda, ginger, spice, soap, paraffin candles, matches, and kerosene oil. These and such luxuries as milord demands compass the culinary needs.

But lest he forget - and it's so easy to do that in the excitement of going into camp - a list of other necessities may not come amiss, and it includes tin kettles with covers, spiders with covers, coffee and tea pots with lips instead of spouts, gridiron, pans, basins, tin cups, pails, milk cans, knives, forks, spoons, lanterns, bags (paper and "gunny" sacks), strings, thread, needles, matches, shovel, axe and hatchet, hammer, tacks and nails, sticking plaster, Jamaica ginger, towels and bath towels, dishpan, dish towels and cloth, pins, mosquito netting, oil of pennyroyal if in fly season, plenty of old newspapers, fishing tackle, guns, ammunition, and last of all, extra stockings and flannel garments. If flannel is worn, one should never take cold even after a thorough soaking; but of cotton and linen, for use in camp or on ranch, beware! Parties scorning the idea of bothering with all these things when rough-ing-it will find camp life quite rough enough, even with the things provided that are mentioned in the list. The need of a match or a pin or string can never be realized until one has had to do without them in camp or on the water.

Every man who cooks shines at his best when in camp or being chef in the open. The guides in the Rangeleys can cook a trout to perfection, while the half-breeds of Canadian jungles, could show a New York chef a thing or two about cooking a partridge. A cowboy out on a round-up can concoct as toothsome a stew or " Mulligan " as was ever served up as ragout in a Broadway restaurant or French " Bouillon " kitchen. A lonely prospector can show one a little about broiling bacon and frying flap- jacks, and when it comes to broiling a beefsteak or grilling a chop, a New York club man is generally a past master at the art, espeAround the Camp Fire cially if he is a member of the famous Beefsteak Club. And when a New Yorker gets into camp and wants to do the cooking - let him; he knows. the value of basting in camp cooking, broiled fish, or roast birds, has been demonstrated long since by famous Maine guides. Billy Soule, for instance, broils his trout before a clear, brisk fire, with thin strips of bacon or salt pork fastened with toothpicks so that the fat trying out will run continually down over the fish, basting it as it broils. In roasting a bird, pieces of bacon or pork are skewered on in the same fashion.

A noted boston bon vivant who has been fishing the streams in the vicinity of Colebrook, N. H., for several years, tells of a camp dinner cooked by himself and comrades which is really worthy of repetition. " One of the boys," he says, " went down to a farmhouse near the river at noon, after a morning's fishing, and for a quarter bought a dozen eggs and a couple of quarts of potatoes with a handful of salt thrown in. We made a hot fire, and let it die down. Then one of us cleaned and washed the trout, and after wrapping them in several thicknesses of green leaves, coated them on the outside with mud. We also coated each egg thickly with mud, making them look like giant wasps' nests. After the fire had died down sufficiently we laid the fish and eggs in the ashes, also the potatoes, covering them well with the hot ashes. This done, we then built another hot fire over the original one. When the edibles were done, we raked them out with sticks, and stripping off the outside layer of mud from the fish, the charred leaves and skin came off with it, leaving a delicious, perfectly-cooked, salmon pink or white meat. The mud was cracked off the eggs and they tasted like the hard-boiled variety. And as for the potatoes, they were quite good enough, even with salt as the only seasoning. The meal was fit for an epicure - and best of all, there were no dishes to wash."

For a camp dinner in autumn, when the deer has not been sighted, or the grouse prove too nimble for amateur hunters, a camp dinner like the following one may be relished and put the men on their mettle for the coming sport:

Hard-boil as many eggs as there are to be guests-and then as many more as they agree to eat. Boil potatoes until nearly done, then drain them dry and slice into a skillet in which thin slices of bacon are crisping. In another dish shred a little salt cod, cover with boiling water, and cook until the fish is tender and the water has evaporated. Add a cup of sweet cream to this - and if near a farm this is worth tramping after. Then when the potatoes are browning nicely, turn the fish and cream over them and add a little pepper. The eggs should be put in cold water when done, and peeled. The salt of fish and bacon will be sufficient for seasoning. To serve, pile the potato mixture on a large hot platter and surround with the eggs. This is called a " Shaker ' dinne-but it's good anywhere. Evaporated or condensed cream may be used instead of fresh cream. The Borden brand is best, as it is less sweet than most others.

In camp, birds, either small or large, are commonly roasted, broiled, or stewed.

Pick all the feathers off, cut a slit and draw them. Wash and wipe carefully with a towel. If for roasting, tie the legs together and place in the pan, dredging with flour. Cover the bottom of the pan with water. Grouse and partridge require about thirty minutes and most wild ducks the same, notwithstanding the epicures protest that they should have but from twelve to fourteen minutes. Small birds will require only about half that time, but the oven must be very hot. Maine guides who cook partridges in their feathers know that it is the only real way to do them at their best. The bird is opened and drawn in the usual manner; then it is covered with wet clay and buried in hot coals and cooked for forty minutes. Draw from the coals and peel off the clay, and with it will come feathers and skin. Most men prefer them to the regulation roasting - and where an oven is not obtainable, it is the best method.