TILE OUTDOOR WORLD. 



439 



to circulate up and down the trunk evaporating pans set in brick and all 



and branches. There is on an average enclosed in a comfortable sugar house 



about one pound of sugar to a sixteen is quite a different thing from this 



quart pail of sap. way of our grandfathers. 



] - AN ANTIQUATED METHOD OF "BOILING DOWN." 



This sap was brought from the trees 

 to the boiling place in large, heavy, 

 wooden pails carried across the shoul- 

 ders by a fitted board (called a neck 

 yoke) with string and hooks at the 

 ends. 



The first settlers made a gash in the 

 trees with an axe and drove in a sharp- 

 ened chip which led the sap out from 

 the tree a few inches where it dropped 

 into a little trough made out of one- 

 half of a two and a half foot cut of a 

 pine log. In this way much of the sap 

 was wasted. After a time they made 

 spiles out of the branches of the 

 sumach by burning out the pith with a 

 hot wire. These they fitted and drove 

 into small auger holes. Instead of the 

 troughs they used pine and cedar buck- 

 ets that would hold about twelve quarts 

 of sap. 



The manner of evaporating the sap 

 can be readily understood by studying 

 the picture. 



The season of sugar making usually 

 comes the last of March or the first 

 of April and lasts from one to three 

 weeks. 



The modern methods of gathering 

 the sap and evaporating it in large 



THE VERNAL MOMENT. 



THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH. 



When the first crocus thrusts its point of 



gold 

 Up through the still snow-drifted garden 



mould, 

 And folded green things in dim woods 



unclose 

 Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes 

 Into my veins and makes me kith and kin 

 To every wild-born thing that thrills and 



blows. 

 Sitting beside this crumbling sea-coal fire, 

 Here in the city's ceaseless roar and din, 

 Far from the brambly paths I used to know. 

 Far from the rustling brooks that slip and 



shine 

 Where the Neponset alders take their glow. 

 I share the tremulous sense of bud and 



brier 

 And inarticulate ardors of the vine. 



If a man loves the woods there is 

 in him something of their sincerity and 

 straightforwardness and if he love the 

 mountains, he retains somewhat of 

 their grandeur and simplicity; for we 

 ever seek in the world of form what 

 best expresses the idea within us, and 

 by our tastes and pursuits divulge 

 what manner of man we are. — "Where 

 Dwells the Soul Serene," by Stanton 

 Kirkham Davis. 



