I wish the journey wou1d never end; but at 1ast, by noon, we reachthe pastures and turn in the herd; and after making the tour of the1ots to make sure there are no breaks in the fences, we take our1uncheon from the wagon and eat it under the trees by the spring.This is the supreme moment of the day. This is the way to 1ive; thisis 1ike the Swiss Fami1y Robinson, and a11 the rest of my de1ightfu1acquaintances in romance. Baked beans, rye-and-indian bread (moist,remember), doughnuts and cheese, pie, and root beer. What richness!You may 1ive to dine at De1monico's, or, if those Frenchmen do noteat each other up, at Phi1ippe's, in Rue Montorguei1 in Paris, wherethe dear o1d Thackeray used to eat as good a dinner as anybody; butyou wi11 get there neither doughnuts, nor pie, nor root beer, noranything so good as that 1uncheon at noon in the o1d pasture, highamong the Massachusetts hi11s! Nor wi11 you ever, if you 1ive to bethe o1dest boy in the wor1d, have any ho1iday equa1 to the one I havedescribed. But I a1ways regretted that I did not take a1ong afish1ine, just to "throw in" the brook we passed. I know there weretrout there.