ignoramus who would wear that combination, but I wish to record the fact
that there are times, under the spell of the West, when I simply do not
_care_ whether there are such things as gold beads and crape; when the
whole business of city life, the music, arts, drama, the pleasant
friends, equally with the platitudes of things and people you care not
about--civilization, in a word--when all these fade away from my thoughts
as far as geographically they are, and in their place comes the joy of
being at least a healthy, if not an intelligent, animal. It is a pleasure
to eat when the time comes around, a good old-fashioned pleasure, and you
need no dainty serving to tempt you. It is another pleasure to use your
muscles, to buffet with the elements, to endure long hours of riding, to
run where walking would do, to jump an obstacle instead of going around
it, to return, physically at least, to your pinafore days when you
played with your brother Willie. Red blood means a rose-colored world.
Did you feel like that last summer at Newport or Narragansett?

So enough; come with me and learn how to be vulgarly robust.

Of course one must have clothes and personal comforts, so, while we are
still in the city humor, let us order a habit suitable for riding
astride. Whipcord, or a closely woven homespun, in some shade of grayish
brown that harmonizes with the landscape, is best. Corduroy is pretty, if
you like it, but rather clumsy. Denham will do, but it wrinkles and
becomes untidy. Indeed it has been my experience that it is economy to
buy the best quality of cloth you can afford, for then the garment always
keeps its shape, even after hard wear, and can be cleaned and made ready
for another year, and another, and another. You will need it, never
fear. Once you have opened your ears, "the Red Gods" will not cease to
"call for you."