An old pasture field sloping away from the road will often satisfy our requirements in low-lying districts.

And up among the moors we shall be content to take a piece of level ground where we can find it.

There will be nothing to disturb us there." And this excellent caravan poem: "I love the gentle office of the cook, The cheerful stove, the placid twilight hour, When, with the tender fragrance of the flower, And all the bubbling voices of the brook, "The coy potato or the onion browns, The tender steak takes on a nobler hue.
I ponder 'mid the falling of the dew, And watch the lapwings circling o'er the downs.
"Like portals at the pathway of the moon Two trees stand forth in pencilled silhouette Against the steel-grey sky, as black as jet-- The steak is ready.

Ah! too soon! too soon!" So much (with one exception) for the inside of the caravan.

Underneath it were still other things, for a box with perforated sides swung between the wheels, and this was the larger, always cool and shady (except, as Janet remarked, on dusty days), and near it on hooks were a hanging saucepan, a great kettle, two pails, and two market baskets, a nose bag, and a skid.