MEMORIES OF THE 



and "Old Pith" — these and dozens of other names, not forget- 

 ting "Old Grim," the fruit from which was so sour that the pigs 

 when they bit into it dropped it and squealed. Every tree had 

 a history, and every name a meaning. 



The town of Lorraine had few good orchards ; it was too 

 high, cold and bleak. But father's orchards had a good start 

 before the country was cleared up and enjoyed the protection of 

 the forests until well grown. Apples were scarce in the locality, 

 while we had a bountiful supply. 



The gathering and housing of the apples was quite an event, 

 and work which had to be done by the boys and girls or women 

 of the place. We took no pains to pick them, but shook them 

 off the trees onto the ground or into blankets and sheets, and 

 stored them in the old cheese-house in great piles, there to 

 remain until the hard freezing weather, when they were taken 

 to the cellar. We did not take the pains to keep the kinds sep- 

 arate, except a few of the choice ones or such sweet apples as 

 were required for making boiled-cider apple-sauce. Sometimes 

 cold, snowy and frosty weather would catch us with part of the 

 apples yet out. That meant gathering them under most un- 

 comfortable circumstances in cold, windy and sometimes snowy 

 weather. There were generally two or three hundred bushels of 

 all kinds and qualities. From the small ones we made cider, 

 sometimes using a small, home-made hand-mill, but more fre- 

 quently drawing them to the cider-mill. 



A quantity of cider from sweet apples was always boiled down 

 for cooking purposes and for making boiled-cider apple-sauce. 

 Of this we always made a large amount, which filled at least two 

 big-bottomed store-tubs holding a barrel or more each. It was 

 made from the sweet apples pared and carefully cut in quarters 

 and cooked slowly in the boiled cider in a great, brass kettle in the 



90 



