disciplined it.

A young missionary who became a great bishop, after some experience of
"the wilds," expressed the opinion that there were but six
necessaries--shelter, fuel, water, fire, something to eat, and blankets.
Our practical tests, extending over twelve years, would tend to the
reduction of the list. For the best part of the year one item--blankets--is
superfluous. Water and fuel are so abundant that they count almost as
cheaply as the air we breathe; but we do lust after a few clothes--a very
few--which the good missionary did not catalogue. Our essentials would
therefore be--shelter, something to eat, and a "little" to wear. Fire is
included under "something to eat," for it is absolutely unnecessary for
warmth. We do still appreciate a warm meal. Our house contains no means
for the production of heat, save the kitchen stove.

Fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs, poultry, fish, and nearly all the meat
consumed--emergency stocks of tinned goods are in reserve--are as cheap as
water and fuel. Our unsullied appetites demand few condiments. Why
olives, when if need be--and the need has not yet manifested itself--as
shrewd a relish and as cleansing a flavour is to be obtained from the
pale yellow flowers of the male papaw, steeped in brine--a decoration and
a zest combined? Our mango chutney etherealises our occasional salted
goat-mutton--and we know that the chutney is what it professes to be.

What more wholesome and pleasant a dish than papaw beaten to mush,
saturated with the juice of lime, sweetened with sugar, and made
fantastic with spices? What more enticing, than stewed mango--golden and
syrupy--with junket white as marble; or fruit salad compact of pineapple,
mango, papaw, granadilla, banana, with lime juice and powdered sugar?