y to other ridges swept by the flame of autumn. It
was really our first wide vision of the gorgeous fall colorings of New
England, and they are not surpassed, I think, anywhere this side of
heaven.

We gathered our apples. We had a small orchard of red Baldwins across
the brook, and some old, scattering trees such as you will find on every
New England farm. These last were very ancient, and of varieties
unknown to-day. One, badly broken by the wind, we cut, and its rings
gave it one hundred and fifty years. Putnam's soldiers could have hooked
apples from that tree, and probably did so, for it was not in plain view
of the house.

We put the Baldwins away and made cider of the others, it being now the
right moment, when there was a tang of frost in the morning air. We
picked up enough to fill both of Uncle Joe's cider-barrels, Westbury and
I hauled them to the mill, and the next day Elizabeth was boiling down
the sweet juice into apple-butter, which is one of the best things in
the world.

There is work about making apple-butter. It is not just a simple matter
of putting on some juice and letting it boil. Apples must go into it,
too, a great many of them, and those apples must be peeled and sliced,
and stirred and stirred eternally. And then you will find that you need
more apples, more peeling and slicing, and more stirring and stirring,
oh yes, indeed. Elizabeth stirred, I stirred, and Lazarus, our small
colored vassal, stirred. I said if I had time I would invent an
apple-butter machine, and Elizabeth declared she would never undertake
such a job again, never in the world! But that was mere momentary
rebellion. When it was all spiced and done and some of it spread on
slices of fresh bread and butter, discontent and weariness passed, and
next day she and Lazarus were making pickles and catsup and apple jelly,
while Old Pop and I were hauling all the flat stones we could find and
paving the wide space between the house and the stone curb which already
we had built around the well. Oh, there is plenty to do when one has
bought an old farm and wants to have all the good things, and the
livable things; and October is the time to do them, when the mornings
are brisk, and the days are balmy, and evening brings solace by the open
fire.

III

_Lazarus's downfall was a matter of pigs_

It was Lazarus, I think, who most enjoyed the open fire. Stretched full
length on the hearth, flat on his stomach, his chin in his hand