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 ev