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Then
we
discussed
the
food
question
.
George
said
:
"
Begin
with
breakfast
.
"
(
George
is
so
practical
.
)
"
Now
for
breakfast
we
shall
want
a
frying-pan
"
--
(
Harris
said
it
was
indigestible
;
but
we
merely
urged
him
not
to
be
an
ass
,
and
George
went
on
)
--
"
a
tea-pot
and
a
kettle
,
and
a
methylated
spirit
stove
.
"
"
No
oil
,
"
said
George
,
with
a
significant
look
;
and
Harris
and
I
agreed
.
We
had
taken
up
an
oil-stove
once
,
but
"
never
again
.
"
It
had
been
like
living
in
an
oil-shop
that
week
.
It
oozed
.
I
never
saw
such
a
thing
as
paraffine
oil
is
to
ooze
.
We
kept
it
in
the
nose
of
the
boat
,
and
,
from
there
,
it
oozed
down
to
the
rudder
,
impregnating
the
whole
boat
and
everything
in
it
on
its
way
,
and
it
oozed
over
the
river
,
and
saturated
the
scenery
and
spoilt
the
atmosphere
.
Sometimes
a
westerly
oily
wind
blew
,
and
at
other
times
an
easterly
oily
wind
,
and
sometimes
it
blew
a
northerly
oily
wind
,
and
maybe
a
southerly
oily
wind
;
but
whether
it
came
from
the
Arctic
snows
,
or
was
raised
in
the
waste
of
the
desert
sands
,
it
came
alike
to
us
laden
with
the
fragrance
of
paraffine
oil
.
And
that
oil
oozed
up
and
ruined
the
sunset
;
and
as
for
the
moonbeams
,
they
positively
reeked
of
paraffine
.
We
tried
to
get
away
from
it
at
Marlow
.
We
left
the
boat
by
the
bridge
,
and
took
a
walk
through
the
town
to
escape
it
,
but
it
followed
us
.
The
whole
town
was
full
of
oil
.
We
passed
through
the
church-yard
,
and
it
seemed
as
if
the
people
had
been
buried
in
oil
.
The
High
Street
stunk
of
oil
;
we
wondered
how
people
could
live
in
it
.
And
we
walked
miles
upon
miles
out
Birmingham
way
;
but
it
was
no
use
,
the
country
was
steeped
in
oil
.
At
the
end
of
that
trip
we
met
together
at
midnight
in
a
lonely
field
,
under
a
blasted
oak
,
and
took
an
awful
oath
(
we
had
been
swearing
for
a
whole
week
about
the
thing
in
an
ordinary
,
middle-class
way
,
but
this
was
a
swell
affair
)
--
an
awful
oath
never
to
take
paraffine
oil
with
us
in
a
boat
again-except
,
of
course
,
in
case
of
sickness
.
Therefore
,
in
the
present
instance
,
we
confined
ourselves
to
methylated
spirit
.
Even
that
is
bad
enough
.
You
get
methylated
pie
and
methylated
cake
.
But
methylated
spirit
is
more
wholesome
when
taken
into
the
system
in
large
quantities
than
paraffine
oil
.
For
other
breakfast
things
,
George
suggested
eggs
and
bacon
,
which
were
easy
to
cook
,
cold
meat
,
tea
,
bread
and
butter
,
and
jam
.
For
lunch
,
he
said
,
we
could
have
biscuits
,
cold
meat
,
bread
and
butter
,
and
jam
--
but
no
cheese
.
Cheese
,
like
oil
,
makes
too
much
of
itself
.
It
wants
the
whole
boat
to
itself
.
It
goes
through
the
hamper
,
and
gives
a
cheesy
flavour
to
everything
else
there
.
You
ca
n't
tell
whether
you
are
eating
apple-pie
or
German
sausage
,
or
strawberries
and
cream
.
It
all
seems
cheese
.
There
is
too
much
odour
about
cheese
.
I
remember
a
friend
of
mine
,
buying
a
couple
of
cheeses
at
Liverpool
.
Splendid
cheeses
they
were
,
ripe
and
mellow
,
and
with
a
two
hundred
horse-power
scent
about
them
that
might
have
been
warranted
to
carry
three
miles
,
and
knock
a
man
over
at
two
hundred
yards
.
I
was
in
Liverpool
at
the
time
,
and
my
friend
said
that
if
I
did
n't
mind
he
would
get
me
to
take
them
back
with
me
to
London
,
as
he
should
not
be
coming
up
for
a
day
or
two
himself
,
and
he
did
not
think
the
cheeses
ought
to
be
kept
much
longer
.
