242 SIGNS AND SEASONS 



sheep and cattle look wistfully toward the bare 

 fields; the tide of the season, in fact, is just begin- 

 ning to rise. 



Sap- letting does not seem to be an exhaustive 

 process to the trees, as the trees of a sugar-bush 

 appear to be as thrifty and as long-lived as other 

 trees. They come to have a maternal, large- waisted 

 look, from the wounds of the axe or the auger, and 

 that is about all. 



In my sugar-making days, the sap was carried to 

 the boiling-place in pails by the aid of a neck-yoke 

 and stored in hogsheads, and boiled or evaporated 

 in immense kettles or caldrons set in huge stone 

 arches; now, the hogshead goes to the trees hauled 

 upon a sled by a team, and the sap is evaporated in 

 broad, shallow, sheet-iron pans, — a great saving of 

 fuel and of labor. 



Many a farmer sits up all night boiling his sap, 

 when the run has been an extra good one, and a 

 lonely vigil he has of it amid the silent trees and 

 beside his wild hearth. If he has a sap-house, as 

 is now so common, he may make himself fairly com- 

 fortable; and if a companion, he may have a good 

 time or a glorious wake. 



Maple- sugar in its perfection is rarely seen, per- 

 haps never seen, in the market. When made in 

 large quantities and indifferently, it is dark and 

 coarse; but when made in small quantities — that 

 is, quickly from the first run of sap and properly 

 treated — it has a wild delicacy of flavor that no 

 other sweet can match. What you smell in freshly 



