New National Fourth Reader Part 71

Hurra! for the Red Island, With the white cross on its crown!

Hurra! for Meccatina, And its mountains bare and brown!

Where the caribou's tall antlers O'er the dwarf-wood freely toss, And the footsteps of the Mickmack Have no sound upon the moss.

There we'll drop our lines, and gather Old ocean's treasures in, Where'er the mottled mackerel Turns up a steel-dark fin.

The sea's our field of harvest, Its scaly tribes our grain; We'll reap the teeming waters As at home they reap the plain.

Though the mist upon our jackets In the bitter air congeals, And our lines wind stiff and slowly From off the frozen reels; Though the fog be dark around us, And the storm blow high and loud, We will whistle down the wild wind, And laugh beneath the cloud!

Hurra!--Hurra!--the west wind Comes freshening down the bay, The rising sails are filling-- Give way, my lads, give way!

Leave the coward landsman clinging To the dull earth like a weed-- The stars of heaven shall guide us, The breath of heaven shall speed!

Directions for Reading.--Let some pupil in the cla.s.s state in what manner the lesson should be read.

Language Lesson.--Change the verbs throughout the sixth stanza so as to represent past action.

Give the time indicated in the following sentences.

I _am thinking_ about it. I _am going_ to-morrow.

As _verb-forms_ do not always determine the _time of an action_, we must call an action _past, present_, or _future_, in accordance with the meaning indicated by the verb.

LESSON LXIX.

op er a'tions, _ways of working; deeds_.

e vap'o rat ed, _has the moisture taken from it_.

au'ger, _a tool used in boring holes_.

shan'ty, _a hut; a poor dwelling_.

e nor'mous, _of very large size_.

su per in tend'ing, _directing; taking care of_.

an nounce', _give first notice of; make known_.

de li'cious, _affording great pleasure, especially to the taste_.

de'tails, _small parts of any thing_.

clar'i fied, _made clear or pure_.

MAKING MAPLE SUGAR.

PART I.

There is no part of farming that a boy enjoys more than the making of maple sugar; it is better than "blackberrying," and nearly as good as fishing.

And one reason he likes this work is that somebody else does the most of it. It is a sort of work in which he can appear to be very active, and yet not do much.

In my day maple-sugar-making used to be something between picnicking and being shipwrecked on a fertile island, where one should save from the wreck, tubs and augers, and great kettles and pork, and hen's-eggs and rye-and-indian bread, and begin at once to lead the sweetest life in the world.

I am told that it is something different nowadays, and that there is more desire to save the sap, and make good, pure sugar, and sell it for a large price.

I am told that it is the custom to carefully collect the sap and bring it to the house, where there are built brick arches, over which it is evaporated in shallow pans, and that pains are taken to keep the leaves, sticks, ashes and coals out of it, and that the sugar is clarified.

In short, that it is a money-making business, in which there is very little fun, and that the boy is not allowed to dip his paddle into the kettle of boiling sugar and lick off the delicious syrup.

As I remember, the country boy used to be on the lookout in the spring for the sap to begin running. I think he discovered it as soon as anybody.

Perhaps he knew it by a feeling of something starting in his own veins--a sort of spring stir in his legs and arms, which tempted him to stand on his head, or throw a handspring, if he could find a spot of ground from which the snow had melted.

The sap stirs early in the legs of a country boy, and shows itself in uneasiness in the toes, which, get tired of boots, and want to come out and touch the soil just as soon as the sun has warmed it a little.

The country boy goes barefoot just as naturally as the trees burst their buds, which were packed and varnished over in the fall to keep the water and the frost out.

Perhaps the boy has been out digging into the maple-trees with his jack-knife; at any rate, he is pretty sure to announce the discovery as he comes running into the house in a state of great excitement, with "Sap's runnin'!"

And then, indeed, the stir and excitement begin. The sap-buckets, which have been stored in the wood-house, are brought down and set out on the south side of the house and scalded.

The snow is still a foot or more deep in the woods, and the ox-sled is got out to make a road to the sugar camp. The boy is every-where present, superintending every thing, asking questions, and filled with a desire to help the excitement.

It is a great day when the cart is loaded with the buckets, and the procession starts into the woods. The sun shines brightly; the snow is soft and beginning to sink down; the snow-birds are twittering about, and the noise of shouting and of the blows of the axe echoes far and wide.

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.