248 TRANSACTIONS OF THE HOETiCULTUKAL 



How fragrant the heaps that for cellar or mill ; 



Lie under the trees, and tlie wonder grows still '. 



That families small many barrels must store ' 



Of cider, — for vinegar, — same as of yore ! « 



E'en the cider-raiU teaches of nature the law, \ 



Some blessings are sweetest when drawn through a straw; j 



The smaller the apple and redder the skin ^ 

 The better the cider that's hidden within. 



DUMPLING NO. V. i 



\ 



THE APPLE PARING BEE. ' 



I recall now the days when 'twas Puritan creed 



In garret and cellar to store against need ■ 



Dried boneset for sickness, and pork for the spider, \ 



Blue yarn for mittens, and jars of boiled cider; j 



But chief in the list was the rich " apple-sass," 



Well riavored with quinces or wild sassafras, ' 



Not less than a barrel to last all the year,— ' 



On company days 'twas the pride of our cheer. \ 



To its making the matron invited a legion. 



The rustics and maidens of all the wide region, 

 Like " quiltings," or " raisings," and " huskings " 

 But best of them all was the famed "Apple Bee." 



so free; 



There swift fly the hours, full of innocent mirth; 

 There pedigree plays second fiddle to worth; 

 There .lane with pink lingers sweet apples is paring. 

 While Jonathan quarters and cores, often daring 

 A long coil of peeling to toss o'er his head, 

 To fall in initials as fateful when read 

 As tlie Delphian Oracle's awe-striking token,— 

 Two J's m a looping that cannot ne broken. 

 When work is all done, quick ihey sweep every scrap up, 

 And round the big chimney the old game of "snap-up" 

 Boils on through the best room, hall, spare room and kitchen, 

 Till grand'ther's cracked voice cries, "Look out for the britchin'!" 

 Then the jolly old fiddle, oft counted profane. 

 Shrieks out, with a lively old "shave-her-down " strain, 

 "Zip Coon," "Soldier's Joy," or "Virginia Reel," 

 With a shuffle of pumps and a clatter of heel, 

 Till the welcome announcement, " Ilefreshment is nigh!" 

 Great pitchers of cider and acres of pie! 



DUMPLING NO. VI. 



APPLE PIE. 



O, the hot apple pie! 'tis a work of high art, 

 Regaling the senses and warming the heart. 

 Now list, while I give you a precious prescription 

 Por building a pie worth a poet's description: — 

 Right deftly tlie fruit, tart and tender, bestow 

 On a wide snowy sheet of the liveliest dough, 

 White sugar and nutmeg sift on with neat fingers: 

 Touch lightly, work quickly,— no true artist lingers:— 

 Next a slice of sweet butter, some cinnamon dust, 



