Wichita eagle., 1888-05-16
MAKING MAPLE SUGAR.
ONE OF THE MOST DELICIOUS MEM
DRIES OF CHILDHOOD.

a Trip to the Oldtime "Bush"-A Day
When Patent Evaporators Were I'm
known-Golden Drips of Indescribable
Sweetness-"It Ropes!"
There is one thing that no mortal can imi-
tate. have seen and tasted a hundred sorts
of manufactured sugar; but will go without
my spring bonnet if l cannot tell the honest
from the imitation every time. There is a
delicate bouquet Of fiavors commingled to
make up maple syrup-fve in number, am
sure, if not six. These l can tell, one from
the other, and glucose is not one OF them.
The most delicious memory Of my girlhood
is of a day when was permitted to go with
my father to the 'bush," half mile from
the house. The bush, or grove, was about
seventy five maple trees, scattered In groups
and singly up and down the slopes of great
glen. or perched on top a grand knoll. We
rode on stone boat over the snow, for the
farmers could carry barrels of sap more
easily on such vehicle, and it did not cut
into the snow. remember to this hour just
where a crow sat perched on dead hemlock;
and as we went through the old orchard a
woodpecker, who was pecking a hole in q
studied limb, turned his queer head around
and looked at me as much as to say: "Welli
who are you, any way?" The crow said
nothing, which is a crows way of saying a
great deal for when crow keeps still you
may be sure he is very busy thinking. In
the maple tree by the brook there was a
squirrels hole, and as there had been some
warm weather, Bobby was abroad, and l
suppose gathering in from his caches or store
houses.
HONEST OLD DoBBIN.
Then we were in the bush, and the horse
was headed near the fire, so that he should
be comfortable and an old buffalo robe was
thrown across his back, and bunch of hay
laid under his nose. So all the morning
Dobbin munched his hay or took nap be-
tween bites, and rambled about under the
south slope, where the snow had thawed
away and the dry leaves lay in heaps in
little hollows.
1.-THE folks" that is my father and my two
big brothers, were patiently emptying buck
cts that stood by the trees, into pals, and
carrying the contents to the great cauldron
kettles that hung over the fire, near by Dob
bin There were none of the improved ways
then, nor any patent evaporators; but there
was genuine sap, that ran out of real trees,
and we boiled it till it was thick, honest
syrup, every ounce of it. Then we took it
to the house, where my mother cleansed it
with a cup Of milk; for the milk made the
dirt to rise to the top when it boiled. When
it rose, one must quickly skim it off, with
great long handled brass skinner. "You
are quick" said my mother often, "and
your eyes are bright, now you may take the
SKINNER When it was cleansed, it must
''boil down" for awhile, till it would 'rope"
and grain. Oh, sugary days of Childhood
Oh golden drips of indescribable sweetness!
For one whole hour we stood around, al
ways conveniently near, to help test the boil
ing JOY Of robust stomachs and "sweeS
TOOTH" Saucers and teaspoons we all had,
and a small amount was in turns ladled into
our dishes, that we proceeded to stir and
taste. When at last the liquid, held aloft,
came down from the spoon into the saucer in
threads and strings, we cried: at ropes! it
ropes" "Well, then, it will soon grain" the
older ones would say. So we stirred all the
more Justify, and ate all the more rapidly,
for we must know the moment it would grain.
FROM LIQUID TO SOLID.
First of all, the pure white scum that rose
clean and foam like would thicken when
stirred till COOL Then the true sugar began
to show a sign of turning from liquid to
solid. The pot must now be quickly swung
off from over the fire in the great fireplace,
and in turn we stirred the fiery contents
with wooden pudding stick" You do not
know what pudding stick was You do
not deserve to know, for having been born at
so late day You should have been born
sooner. There is no romance now. But
pudding sticks and rolling pins every girl
knew the meaning of in those days We
were brought up on much mush and many
doughnuts, and we girls knew all about it.
Manual instruction. Indeed it was the rule
in those days. 1t Is no new thing And our
mothers also knew how to use their hands
But, as l said, one is always getting born
too soon or not soon enough. But what is
more, nothing ever stays as it was. l 60 now
to look for the bush, and In its place is
street with houses, and no end of children
peeking out the windows. They it is who
have usurped my place. Yes, they have
crowded me along, and are the boys and girls
of today; and it is they who hold the saucers
and the spoons; and l have by sheer compul-
sion taken to the pen. 1t is well, little ones.
The world has none too many of you. 1t
never will have. But, as for US, we have
the past, and no one can take it away from
US. And if one has the past one can make
sugar from the trees that used to grow and
are now cut down. l cali it the maple sugar
of memory. Only some one there are that
have the knack of making sugar, and can
only make vinegar. One must not throw
away the past when once it is lived, for it is
delightful property to have. Dear old sugar
bushl no ak shall eyer cut you out of my
loving heart.--Alary E. Spencer in Globe
Democrat.