Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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The fifth son Chou, the youngest Httle Jong, Draws big and Httle circles all day long. To be a mathematician is his aim And to rob Euclid of his world wide fame. Chou Jong. They all have passed, my song is at an end. Each one to the whole world is a great friend. Here you may see that all are not the same, I hope you ' ll always hke to play that game, Mah Jong. Eileen Peters, Form V. a. Sugaring ONE of the pleasantest seasons of the year in the country is the early Spring. Not only are the birds coming back from their winter trip South, the buds on tree and bush beginning to swell, and the fields to take on a slightly green tinge, but in the woods the snow is vanishing, and in the trees the sap is stirring. It was such a Spring as this when all the family went, as we always do for the Easter hcHdays, to the farm. The farm lies between two sloping hills, on whose sides the snow had not com- pletely vanished, and stretches to the edge of a large lake — blue in summer, but in the early dawn of spring white and icy. All the lower part of the property is one large hay- field, broken here and there by occasional stone-piles, but on the whole open and clear of trees. The attraction of the place at this time of year lies at the end of the farm furthest from the lake. Here, in the midst of a large wood of maples and evergreens, covering about sixty acres, stands a little hut of boards, which by virtue of the manufacture carried on within it, is called the Sugar-house. It was to this spot that we hastened the morning after our arrival at the farm. As the apparatus had not been used for two years, many holes had to be soldered before the pans could be used. This done, and armed with a pail of spiles, an augur and hammer, we set off to tap the trees at whose feet buckets had been laid the day before. It was great fun to wade through the drifted snow to a tree, and after boring a hole in its side, and hammering in the spout, to see the sweet, water-like sap run out in a small trickle. About a hundred trees were tapped in this way, and a shining bucket hung on the side of each. Then we left the wood, so silent before, but now echoing to the drip-drip of the sap as it fell into the tin pails. For a day and a half nothing was done in the backwoods, while we waited for the buckets to fill. Then one morning bright and early, the horses were hitched to the sleigh, on which a great hogshead had been placed, and the whole family with shouts of joy fared forth to gather the sap. Standing on the sleigh, it was all one person could do to [ 28 ]

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Mah Jong Mah Jong is very beautiful and sweet, As nice as one could ever wish to meet. She ' s tall and dark and of the greatest fame For after her is named that wondrous game Mah Jong. Pah John keeps all the books and the accounts He adds, subtracts and doubles great amounts. A true and gentle Chinaman is he. And as one he is very proud to be Pah Jong. The eldest child, the only girl in fact Would go down to Woo-Chang and learn to act. The Flower of the family without doubt, She ' s popular and all the time is out. Girl Jong. The eldest son is noisy, rough and rude His manners impolite and very crude. He smokes a lot and puffs and blows about, They call him Wind, it suits him well no doubt. Wind Jong. The second son a dreamer straight and plain Would have St. George ' s days come back again. He ' s dragon mad both red and green and white, I ' m sure he dreams about them every night. Young Jong. The third son Pong is gentle meek and good. He does the things that every good boy should. And he will someday like his father be, A noble Chinese Character is he. Pong Jong. The fourth son Gong a carpenter will be. That from his youth was very plain to see. He makes all sorts of things from Bamboo reeds. He tries to make Bamboo supply all needs. Gong Jong. [27]

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take the overflowing pails from the arms of the others, who had, with some spiUing of sap into their topboots and much laughter, stumbled with them from the trees to the sleigh through the snow. At last the hogshead was full, and taken back to camp, and now it was time to fire up! The pans were filled with the water which was ultimately to become syrup, and a roaring fire lighted under them. Soon the flat pans were boiling furiously, the steam so dense that it was impossible to see even across the little house, while the boiler in which most of the sap was stored threatened instantly to boil over, and required con- stant attention. Our heir became wet with steam and our faces with toil, and the pans continued to boil. For two days more a fire was kept going, only dying down during the night. We children took turns in carrying our dinner up to the woods, so that the boiling might not stop for a second. The colourless sap had now become a yellow brown, and had a decided flavour of syrup. At last it reached a temperature of 219°, and was pronounced ready to be taken off. The pans were lifted bodily from the fire, and the syrup strained through heavy felt into milk cans procured for the purpose. Then it was carried to the house where in a tremendous copper kettle it went through the last stages of its transformation. Gradually degree by degree it rose in temperature, getting thicker and thicker, and more and more like the maple sugar which is seen in grocer-shops. Those who had watched over the sap from its earliest appearance out of the trees, watched over it now, v hile they reaped the fruits of their labour in many a sticky piece of hardening syrup spread on platefuls of snow. At last 238° was reached — the temperature of soft sugar. The pot was taken from the stove the birch-bark cones which had been made that morning, filled; and the rest of the cooling, taffy-like syrup after being beaten, was poured into lard tins, there to cool and harden. Sugar was a debarred subject both that evening and the next day, for we had all eaten so much and become so sticky and sugary, that for the time being everyone was completely satisfied. We had made fifty pounds of soft sugar during the ten days of our stay, and had found the making of it one of the most interesting and pleasant experiences we had ever had. ' HE first words that I ever remember hearing are, Well thank goodness that pair is finished. And happy, right across from me was a nice low miirror where I could get a good view of myself. I was very long and a gleaming white all over. Under my sole was shiny rubber and inside I was white also with a 6 marked in black. I am sure I don ' t know what for, but it marred my beatuy. I didn ' t want to make any breaks, being a greenie so I just kept quiet. Presently I heard a voice say to me, We are running-shoes, I was just finished a little while ago and Jane Howard, Form Upper VI. The Life of a Shoe 129]