Howsomever, as spring wore into summer and summer ran its course, I began to long with a constantly increasing longing for certain distinctive dishes to be found nowhere except in my native clime; brook trout, for example, and roasting ears, and—Oh, lots of things! So I came home to get them.
And, now that I've had them, I often catch myself in the act of thoughtfully dwelling upon the fond remembrances of those spicy fragrant stews eaten in peasant kitchens, and those army doughnuts, and those slices of bacon toasted at daybreak on the lids of mess kits in British dugouts.
I suppose they call contentment a jewel because it is so rare.
| BY IRVIN S. COBB |
| FICTION |
| Those Times and These |
| Local Color |
| Old Judge Priest |
| Fibble, D.D. |
| Back Home |
| The Escape of Mr. Trimm |
| WIT AND HUMOR |
| "Speaking of Operations—" |
| Europe Revised |
| Roughing It De Luxe |
| Cobb's Bill of Fare |
| Cobb's Anatomy |
| MISCELLANY |
| The Thunders of Silence |
| "Speaking of Prussians—" |
| Paths of Glory |
| GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY |
| NEW YORK |