Although no doubt there are many of my readers who have by long experience acquired the knack of making themselves thoroughly comfortable under canvas, and who, being fond of nice food, and au fait in culinary science, contrive to eat and drink in camp as luxuriously as in cantonment, there must be, I take it, a good many travellers, sportsmen, soldiers, and others whose duties demand several months of tent-life per annum, who would like to pick up a wrinkle or two in the matter of cookery under difficulties.

A friend of mine, who in addition to his passionate devotion to la chasse, possesses the keenest affection for his dinner, assured me, once upon a time, that good bread was the back-bone of happiness, - gustatory happiness, that is to say, - in the jungle. In cantonment even, this man despised the miserable travesty called bread furnished by the native baker. They say that he once saw it being made, never thought of it again without a shudder, and preferred a home-made roll for ever afterwards. He carried his roll with him, so to speak, into camp, and with the aid of a talented servant, was able to bake hot, clean, white bread daily, at a distance of many marches from an English dwelling place. He used Yeatman's baking powder, imported Australian or American flour, and a little salt. Butter and milk were added in the case of his fancy petit pain, and he occasionally mixed oatmeal with the flour for variety.

I often envied my friend's bread, yet never took the trouble to follow his example until comparatively lately. My conversion was brought about by Mr. Woolf of 119, New Bond Street, who introduced me to the "Acme cooking stove,"* and gave me many a seance with regard to the use of Yeatman's baking powder for which his firm are the London Agents. The man who could remain unconvinced after one of Mr. Woolf's pleasant demonstrations, would be a stoic indeed. You are shown how to make a pound loaf, - "cottage" pattern, in rolls, or in the tin. This is placed in the stove oven whilst you examine the numerous clever contrivances for the kitchen, - principally American inventions, - which form the specialites of the establishment. In less than half an hour the loaf, baked to perfection, is placed upon the table.

Now here are two invaluable articles for the dweller in tents :- a composition, perfectly climate-proof, by which he can turn out an excellent loaf of light, clean bread; and the oven to bake it in.

The "Acme Stove" is cheap, portable, strong, and easily managed. It is fed by mineral oil, kerosine or parafine, and in addition to the oven, provides the cook with a capital kitchen range adapted for boiling, stewing, frying, and even grilling. The size I recommend, after upwards of two years' experience of its working, - more than a year of that time having been spent at Madras, - is fitted with double wicks four inches wide. One of these stoves with its ordinary appurtenances can be purchased for £2, s.15. For that sum you have a capital oven, with baking dishes and a griddle, a radiator, a kettle, and a frying-pan. Ordinary sauce-pans of a certain diameter can be used with it. A Warren's cooking pot, fitted to the stove, is furnished for £1-1, and a griller for five shillings and sixpence. When not wanted for cooking, it can be used for heating a room, for which purpose, you use the radiator, or ornamental chimney, previously mentioned. Thus adjusted, it is also very useful for airing damp linen, or drying vet clothes; you have merely to place a large circular basket over it, and spread the things thereon, for the chimney is so contrived that the heat radiates laterally, and there is therefore no chance of burning, scorching, or smoking.

* Now eclipsed by the "Florence" which is worked exactly like the Acme" but with numerous improvements. - W.

In camp, the first thing the Acme would do for you would be to boil the water for your tea: if a raw Deceember, or January morning in the Deccan, or on the plateau of Mysore, you would not object to the operation being performed inside your tent, for the warmth would be very pleasant. It would then bake the bread for your breakfast, and warm up any rechauffe destined for that meal at the same time. During the day it would make the soup, and in the evening be available for work for dinner. I do not say that you could do without a charcoal fire, but the stove would do a large portion of the day's cooking, and in a way vastly superior to any ordinary fire, either in camp or cantonment. In soup-making, for instance, and in stewing operations, you possess the power of producing the exact amount of heat you need by turning down the wicks at will. I have made a pot-au-feu, in a Warren's kettle placed upon my Acme, the like of which I defy a native cook to produce with a common cook-room fire, simply on account of this regulating power. A gallon flask of kerosine oil should be made to fit the stove box for short periods of camp life. If a man were settled in a standing camp, or out in his district for an indefinite period, he would, of course, require a keg of oil. I use my stove for some hours daily, and my month's expenditure does not exceed ten quart bottles.

Another of Mr. Woolf's valuable inventions, which I can strongly advise the traveller to obtain, is the "Lang spirit lamp": the large one costs five shillings and sixpence, and is a never failing source of comfort on a journey. In camp it would be found a most useful appendage to the Acme stove for light work, such as boiling milk for coffee, cooking eggs in all sorts of ways, heating sauces, frying bacon, etc. I use mine for omelettes almost every day in cantonment, for which work it is admirably adapted. With a "Lang lamp" you can make a cup of tea or coffee in the train, by the side of the road, on arrival at a public bungalow, or under a tree whilst the lascars are pitching your tent: and by its aid, and that of a small frying-pan, you can devil a biscuit, fry a rasher, poach an egg, or cook a kidney, to accompany the tea or coffee. It is fed by methylated spirit, a gallon of which would last for at least two months.