Supposing you and I were to start from home in the morning after
breakfast; when noon comes, we eat the lunch we have taken with us, and
press on. As the end of the day's march approaches, we look out to buy
two quarts of potatoes at a farmhouse or store; and we boil or fry, or
boil and mash in milk, enough of these for our supper. The breakfast
next morning is much the same. We cook potatoes in every way we know,
and eat the whole of our stock remaining, thus saving so much weight to
carry. We also soak some pilot-bread, and fry that for a dessert, eating
a little sugar on it if we can spare it. When dinner-time approaches, we
keep a lookout for a chance to buy ten or twelve cents' worth of bread
or biscuits. These are more palatable than the pilot-bread or crackers
in our haversack. If we have a potato left from breakfast, we cook and
eat it now. We cut off a slice of the corned beef, and take a nibble at
the ginger-snaps. If we think we can afford three or four cents more, we
buy a pint of milk, and make a little dip-toast. And so we go;
sometimes we catch a fish, or pass an orchard whose owner gives us all
the windfalls we want. We pick berries too; and keep a sharp lookout
that we supply ourselves in season when our pilot-bread, sugar, pork,
and butter run low. Some days we overtake farmers driving ox-carts or
wagons; we throw our kits aboard, and walk slowly along, willing to lose
a little time to save our aching shoulders. And in due time, if no
accident befalls, nor rainy weather detains us, we arrive at our
seashore or mountain.

You may like to know that this is almost an exact history, at least as
far as eating is concerned, of a twelve days' tramp I once went on in
company with two other boys. There was about five dollars in the party,
and nearly two dollars of this was spent in paying toll on a boat that
we took through a canal a part of the way. We carried coffee, sugar,