Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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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]

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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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I think that we are a pair or something. I turned to see that another running-shoe exactly Hke me had spoken. This at least was a relief, to know what I was. A very tall man then appeared and packed me and my twin into a box and put us on a shelf. Then followed months of darkness shut up in a stuffy box. I rarely spoke to my twin because there was nothing to talk about as we had only seen light for about an hour. From time to time I could hear someone say, Let me see, white, and we would be whisked down, but then a discouraged, Oh, six and a half — and we would be put back in our place. Sometimes we could catch interesting little bits of conversation and then life did nto seem quite so dull for a time, and once the lid to our box was left off for half an hour and we had a lovely time. It gave us something to talk about for several days. One day our box was removed from the shelf and we were taken out and brought over to a bench and tiied on a girl who was very tall and had huge feet. Many exciting adventures followed but I really like running best, particularly on a court (I have learned quite a lot of slang). Then one dreadful day came. I was in the cloak room on the radiator, my mistress had forgotten to put me beside my twin in her cubby-hole, when a girl came along that I had hear d someone call a sixth-former. She had on a triangular pin with a P on it. I think it stood for Pound or something because she said, I have to take this to pound. Then I was picked up and placed in a large cupboard with a terrible mixture of books, belts shoes and all kinds of running-shoes. I wasn ' t a bit bored because I soon made friends with the other shoes and they told me all about themselves. One time my owner came and after rummaging through the shoes she picked me up and looked inside of me and whispered to another girl (not a pound ) This isn ' t marked, I think I will leave it here. No more detentions for me. About Christmas time (I know because I heard one girl ask another what she wanted for Christmas) I was picked up with our clique (for black ones and me) and sent to a place with 0-R-P-H-A-N-A-G-E- written across the door in large letters. After being taken into the house I was picked up and quickly cast aside again with Begore, an odd one. I am no longer white but a kind of dirty gray and I am telHng my sad tale from the depths of a garbage can. It was not all sad but I didn ' t think that I would end here and hope that my history will be a lesson to girls, to have pity on us running-shoes. Celeste Belnap, Form III. b [30]