Little Sol.
and the old woman made some fifty troughs more, the trees were duly
tapped, a shanty in the bush was erected of small logs and brush and
covered in at the top with straw; and the old woman and Solomon, the
hired boy, commenced operations.
The very first day, a terrible accident happened to us; a large log
fell upon the sugar-kettle - the borrowed sugar-kettle - and cracked
it, spilling all the sap, and rendering the vessel, which had cost
four dollars, useless. We were all in dismay. Just at that time
Old Wittals happened to pass, on his way to Peterborough. He very
good-naturedly offered to get the kettle repaired for us; which,
he said, could be easily done by a rivet and an iron hoop. But
where was the money to come from? I thought awhile. Katie had a
magnificent coral and bells, the gift of her godfather; I asked the
dear child if she would give it to buy another kettle for Mr. T - -.
She said, "I would give ten times as much to help mamma."
I wrote a little note to Emilia, who was still at her father's;
and Mr. W - -, the storekeeper, sent us a fine sugar-kettle back
by Wittals, and also the other mended, in exchange for the useless
piece of finery. We had now two kettles at work, to the joy of
Jenny, who declared that it was a lucky fairy who had broken the
old kettle.
While Jenny was engaged in boiling and gathering the sap in the
bush, I sugared off the syrup in the house; an operation watched by
the children with intense interest. After standing all day over the
hot stove-fire, it was quite a refreshment to breathe the pure air
at night. Every evening I ran up to see Jenny in the bush, singing
and boiling down the sap in the front of her little shanty. The old
woman was in her element, and afraid of nothing under the stars;
she slept beside her kettles at night, and snapped her fingers at
the idea of the least danger. She was sometimes rather despotic in
her treatment of her attendant, Sol. One morning, in particular,
she bestowed upon the lad a severe cuffing.
I ran up the clearing to the rescue, when my ears were assailed by
the "boo-hooing" of the boy.
"What has happened? Why do you beat the child, Jenny?"
"It's jist, thin, I that will bate him - the unlucky omadhawn! Has
not he spilt and spiled two buckets of syrup, that I have been the
live-long night bilin'. Sorra wid him; I'd like to strip the skin
off him, I would!
