IN THE CATSKILLS 



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 

 comfortable; 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 

 cut maple- wood, or taste in the blossom of the tree, 

 is in it. It is then, indeed, the distilled essence of 

 the tree. Made into syrup, it is white and clear 

 as clover-honey; and crystallized into sugar, it is as 

 pure as the wax. The way to attain this result is 

 to evaporate the sap under cover in an enameled 

 kettle; when reduced about twelve times, allow it 

 to settle half a day or more; then clarify with milk 

 or the white of an egg. The product is virgin 

 syrup, or sugar worthy the table of the gods. 



Perhaps the most heavy and laborious work of 

 the farm in the section of the State of which I 

 write is fence-building. But it is not unproductive 

 72 



