the complete writings-4-第15章

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hat　his　out…door　life　is　about　to　begin　again。

In　the　first　place；　the　men　go　about　and　tap　the　trees；　drive　in　the　spouts；　and　hang　the　buckets　under。　　The　boy　watches　all　these　operations　with　the　greatest　interest。　　He　wishes　that　sometime；　when　a　hole　is　bored　in　a　tree；　the　sap　would　spout　out　in　a　stream　as　it　does　when　a　cider…barrel　is　tapped；　but　it　never　does；　it　only　drops；　sometimes　almost　in　a　stream；　but　on　the　whole　slowly；　and　the　boy　learns　that　the　sweet　things　of　the　world　have　to　be　patiently　waited　for；　and　do　not　usually　come　otherwise　than　drop　by　drop。

Then　the　camp　is　to　be　cleared　of　snow。　　The　shanty　is　re…covered　with　boughs。　　In　front　of　it　two　enormous　logs　are　rolled　nearly　together；　and　a　fire　is　built　between　them。　　Forked　sticks　are　set　at　each　end；　and　a　long　pole　is　laid　on　them；　and　on　this　are　hung　the　great　caldron　kettles。　　The　huge　hogsheads　are　turned　right　side　up；　and　cleaned　out　to　receive　the　sap　that　is　gathered。　　And　now；　if　there　is　a　good　〃sap　run；〃　the　establishment　is　under　full　headway。

The　great　fire　that　is　kindled　up　is　never　let　out；　night　or　day；　as　long　as　the　season　lasts。　　Somebody　is　always　cutting　wood　to　feed　it；　somebody　is　busy　most　of　the　time　gathering　in　the　sap；　somebody　is　required　to　watch　the　kettles　that　they　do　not　boil　over；　and　to　fill　them。　　It　is　not　the　boy；　however；　he　is　too　busy　with　things　in　general　to　be　of　any　use　in　details。　　He　has　his　own　little　sap…yoke　and　small　pails；　with　which　he　gathers　the　sweet　liquid。　　He　has　a　little　boiling…place　of　his　own；　with　small　logs　and　a　tiny　kettle。　In　the　great　kettles　the　boiling　goes　on　slowly；　and　the　liquid；　as　it　thickens；　is　dipped　from　one　to　another；　until　in　the　end　kettle　it　is　reduced　to　sirup；　and　is　taken　out　to　cool　and　settle；　until　enough　is　made　to　〃sugar　off。〃　To　〃sugar　off〃　is　to　boil　the　sirup　until　it　is　thick　enough　to　crystallize　into　sugar。　　This　is　the　grand　event；　and　is　done　only　once　in　two　or　three　days。

But　the　boy's　desire　is　to　〃sugar　off〃　perpetually。　　He　boils　his　kettle　down　as　rapidly　as　possible；　he　is　not　particular　about　chips；　scum；　or　ashes；　he　is　apt　to　burn　his　sugar；　but　if　he　can　get　enough　to　make　a　little　wax　on　the　snow；　or　to　scrape　from　the　bottom　of　the　kettle　with　his　wooden　paddle；　he　is　happy。　　A　good　deal　is　wasted　on　his　hands；　and　the　outside　of　his　face；　and　on　his　clothes；　but　he　does　not　care；　he　is　not　stingy。

To　watch　the　operations　of　the　big　fire　gives　him　constant　pleasure。　Sometimes　he　is　left　to　watch　the　boiling　kettles；　with　a　piece　of　pork　tied　on　the　end　of　a　stick；　which　he　dips　into　the　boiling　mass　when　it　threatens　to　go　over。　　He　is　constantly　tasting　of　it；　however；　to　see　if　it　is　not　almost　sirup。　　He　has　a　long　round　stick；　whittled　smooth　at　one　end；　which　he　uses　for　this　purpose；　at　the　constant　risk　of　burning　his　tongue。　　The　smoke　blows　in　his　face；　he　is　grimy　with　ashes；　he　is　altogether　such　a　mass　of　dirt；　stickiness；　and　sweetness；　that　his　own　mother　would　n't　know　him。

He　likes　to　boil　eggs　in　the　hot　sap　with　the　hired　man；　he　likes　to　roast　potatoes　in　the　ashes；　and　he　would　live　in　the　camp　day　and　night　if　he　were　permitted。　　Some　of　the　hired　men　sleep　in　the　bough　shanty　and　keep　the　fire　blazing　all　night。　　To　sleep　there　with　them；　and　awake　in　the　night　and　hear　the　wind　in　the　trees；　and　see　the　sparks　fly　up　to　the　sky；　is　a　perfect　realization　of　all　the　stories　of　adventures　he　has　ever　read。　　He　tells　the　other　boys　afterwards　that　he　heard　something　in　the　night　that　sounded　very　much　like　a　bear。　　The　hired　man　says　that　he　was　very　much　scared　by　the　hooting　of　an　owl。

The　great　occasions　for　the　boy；　though；　are　the　times　of　〃sugaring…　off。〃　　Sometimes　this　used　to　be　done　in　the　evening；　and　it　was　made　the　excuse　for　a　frolic　in　the　camp。　　The　neighbors　were　invited；　sometimes　even　the　pretty　girls　from　the　village；　who　filled　all　the　woods　with　their　sweet　voices　and　merry　laughter　and　little　affectations　of　fright。　　The　white　snow　still　lies　on　all　the　ground　except　the　warm　spot　about　the　camp。　　The　tree　branches　all　show　distinctly　in　the　light　of　the　fire；　which　sends　its　ruddy　glare　far　into　the　darkness；　and　lights　up　the　bough　shanty；　the　hogsheads；　the　buckets　on　the　trees；　and　the　group　about　the　boiling　kettles；　until　the　scene　is　like　something　taken　out　of　a　fairy　play。　　If　Rembrandt　could　have　seen　a　sugar　party　in　a　New　England　wood；　he　would　have　made　out　of　its　strong　contrasts　of　light　and　shade　one　of　the　finest　pictures　in　the　world。　　But　Rembrandt　was　not　born　in　Massachusetts；　people　hardly　ever　do　know　where　to　be　born　until　it　is　too　late。　Being　born　in　the　right　place　is　a　thing　that　has　been　very　much　neglected。

At　these　sugar　parties　every　one　was　expected　to　eat　as　much　sugar　as　possible；　and　those　who　are　practiced　in　it　can　eat　a　great　deal。　　It　is　a　peculiarity　about　eating　warm　maple　sugar；　that　though　you　may　eat　so　much　of　it　one　day　as　to　be　sick　and　loathe　the　thought　of　it；　you　will　want　it　the　next　day　more　than　ever。　　At　the　〃sugaring…off　〃　they　used　to　pour　the　hot　sugar　upon　the　snow；　where　it　congealed；　without　crystallizing；　into　a　sort　of　wax；　which　I　do　suppose　is　the　most　delicious　substance　that　was　ever　invented。　　And　it　takes　a　great　while　to　eat　it。　　If　one　should　close　his　teeth　firmly　on　a　ball　of　it；　he　would　be　unable　to　open　his　mouth　until　it　dissolved。　The　sensation　while　it　is　melting　is　very　pleasant；　but　one　cannot　converse。

The　boy　used　to　make　a　big　lump　of　it　and　give　it　to　the　dog；　who　seized　it　with　great　avidity；　and　closed　his　jaws　on　it；　as　dogs　will　on　anything。　　It　was　funny　the　next　moment　to　see　the　expression　of　perfect　surprise　on　the　dog's　face　when　he　found　that　he　could　not　open　his　jaws。　　He　shook　his　head；　he　sat　down　in　despair；　he　ran　round　in　a　circle；　he　dashed　into　the　woods　and　back　again。　　He　did　everything　except　climb　a　tree；　and　howl。　　It　would　have　been　such　a　relief　to　him　if　he　could　have　howled。　　But　that　was　the　one　thing　he　could　not　do。




XV

THE　HEART　OF　NEW　ENGLAND

It　is　a　wonder　that　every　New　England　boy　does　not　turn　out　a　poet；　or　a　missionary；　or　a　peddler。　　Most　of　them　used　to。　　There　is　everything　in　the　heart　of　the　New　England　hills　to　feed　the　imagination　of　the　boy；　and　excite　his　longing　for　strange　countries。　I　scarcely　know　what　the　subtle　influence　is　that　forms　him　and　attracts　him　in　the　most　fascinating　and　aromatic　of　all　lands；　and　yet　urges　him　away　from　all　the　sweet　delights　of　his　home　to　become　a　roamer　in　literature　and　in　the　world；　a　poet　and　a　wanderer。　There　is　something　in　the　soil　and　the　pure　air；　I　suspect；　that　promises　more　romance　than　is　forthcoming；　that　excites　the　imagination　without　satisfying　it；　and　begets　the　desire　of　adventure。　　And　the　prosaic　life　of　the　sweet　home　does　not　at　all　correspond　to　the　boy's　dreams　of　the　world。　　In　the　good　old　days；　I　am　told；　the　boys　on　the　coast　ran　away　and　became　sailors；　the　countryboys　waited　till　they　grew　big　enough　to　be　missionaries；　and　then　they　sailed　away；　and　met　the　coast　boys　in　foreign　ports。　John　used　to　spend　hours　in　the　top　of　a　slender　hickory…tree　that　a　little　detached　itself　from　the　forest　which　crowned　the　brow　of　the　steep　and　lofty　pasture　behind　his　house。　　He　was　sent　to　make　war　on　the　bushes　that　constantly　encroached　upon　the　pastureland；　but　John　had　no　hostility　to　any　growing　thing；　and　a　very　little　bushwhacking　satisfied　him。　　When　he　had　grubbed　up　a　few　laurels　and　young　tree…　sprouts；　he　was　wont　to　retire　into　his　favorite　post　of　observation　and　meditation。　　Perhaps　he　fancied　that　the　wide…swaying　stem　to　which　he　clung　was　the　mast　of　a　ship；　that　the　tossing　forest　behind　him　was　the　heaving　waves　of　the　sea；　and　that　the　wind　which　moaned　over　the　woods　and　murmured　in　the　leaves；　and　now　and　then　sent　him　a　wide　circuit　in　the　air；　as　if　he　had　been　a　blackbird　on　the　tip…　top　of　a　spruce；　was　an　ocean　gale。　　What　life；　and　action；　and　heroism　there　was　to　him　in　the　multitudinous　roar　of　the　forest；　and　what　an　eternity　of　existence　in　the　monologue　of　the　river；　which　brawled　far；　far　below　him　over　its　wide　stony　bed！　　How　the　r