ual? Or is it that some temperaments have naturally a certain
large confidence in the sway of law, and refuse to wonder at its
individual workings? To me the individual workings give an ever fresh
thrill because they bring a new realization of the mighty powers behind
them. It seems to depend on which end you begin at.

But though the little drops thrilled me, I was not beyond setting a pail
underneath to catch them. And as Hiram went on boring, I followed with my
pails. Pails, did I say? Pails by courtesy. There were, indeed, a few real
pails--berry-pails, lard-pails, and water-pails--but for the most part the
sap fell into pitchers, or tin saucepans, stew-kettles of aluminum or
agate ware, blue and gray and white and mottled, or big yellow earthenware
bowls. It was a strange collection of receptacles that lined the roadside
when we had finished our progress. As I looked along the row, I laughed,
and even Hiram smiled.

But what next? Every utensil in the house was out there, sitting in the
road. There was nothing left but the wash-boiler. Now, I had heard tales
of amateur syrup-boilings, and I felt that the wash-boiler would not do.
Besides, I meant to work outdoors--no kitchen stove for me! I must have a
pan, a big, flat pan. I flew to the telephone, and called up the village
plumber, three miles away. Could he build me a pan? Oh, say, two feet by
three feet, and five inches high--yes, right away. Yes, Hiram would call
for it in the afternoon.

I felt better. And now for a fireplace! Oh, Jonathan! Why did you have to
be away! For Jonathan loves a stone and knows how to put stones together,
as witness the stone "Eyrie" and the stile in the lane. However, there
Jonathan wasn't. So I went out into the swampy orchard behind the house
and looked about--no lack of stones, at any rate. I began to collect
material, and Hiram, seeing my purpose, helped with the big stones.
Somehow my fireplace got made--two side walls, one end wall, the other end
left open for stoking. It was not as pretty as if Jonathan had done it,
but "'t was enough, 't would serve." I collected fire-wood, and there I
was, ready for my pan, and the afternoon was yet young, and the sap was
drip-drip-dripping from all the spouts. I could begin to boil next day. I
felt that I was being borne along on the providential wave that so often
floats the inexperienced to success.

That night I emptied all my vessels into the boiler and set them out once
more. A ne