Life in Canada Fifty Years Ago | Page 9

the edge, ran a deep groove to carry off the juice. In making what is known as the cheese, the first process was to spread a thick layer of long rye or wheat straw round the outer edge, on the floor of the press. Upon this the pulp was placed to the depth of a foot or more. The first layer of straw was then turned in carefully, and another layer of straw put down as in the first place, upon which more pulp was placed, and so on from layer to layer, until the cheese was complete. Planks were then placed on the top, and the pressure of the powerful wooden screw brought to bear on the mass. At once a copious stream of cider began to flow into the casks or vat, and here the fun began with the boys, who, well armed with long straws, sucked their fill.
By the roadside stands the cider mill, Where a lowland slumber waits the rill:
A great brown building, two stories high, On the western hill face warm and dry;
And odorous piles of apples there Fill with incense the golden air;
And masses of pomace, mixed with straw, To their amber sweets the late flies draw.
The carts back up to the upper door, And spill their treasures in on the floor;
Down through the toothed wheels they go To the wide, deep cider press below.
And the screws are turned by slow degrees Down on the straw-laid cider cheese;
And with each turn a fuller stream Bursts from beneath the graning beam,
An amber stream the gods might sip, And fear no morrow's parched lip.
But therefore, gods? Those idle toys Were soulless to real Canadian boys!
What classic goblet ever felt Such thrilling touches through it melt,
As throb electric along a straw, When the boyish lips the cider draw?
The years are heavy with weary sounds, And their discords life's sweet music drowns
But yet I hear, oh, sweet! oh, sweet! The rill that bathed my bare, brown feet;
And yet the cider drips and falls On my inward ear at intervals
And I lead at times in a sad, sweet dream To the bubbling of that little stream;
And I sit in a visioned autumn still, In the sunny door of the cider mill.
--WHITTIER.
It was a universal custom to set a dish of apples and a pitcher of cider before everyone who came to the house. Any departure from this would have been thought disrespectful. The sweet cider was generally boiled down into a syrup, and, with apples quartered and cooked in it, was equal to a preserve, and made splendid pies. It was called apple sauce, and found its way to the table thrice a day.
Then came the potatoes and roots, which had to be dug and brought to the cellar. It was not very nice work, particularly if the ground was damp and cold, to pick them out and throw them into the basket, but it had to be done, and I was compelled to do my share. One good thing about it was that it was never a long job. There was much more fun in gathering the pumpkins and corn into the barn. The corn was husked, generally at night, the bright golden ears finding their way into the old crib, from whence it was to come again to fatten the turkeys, the geese, and the ducks for Christmas. It was a very common thing to have husking bees. A few neighbours would be invited, the barn lit with candles.
Strung o'er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in the mow, Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scenes below; The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, And laughing eyes, and busy hand, and brown cheeks glimmering o'er.
Half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, Talking their old times o'er, the old men sat apart; While up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its shade, At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy children played.
--WHITTIER.
Amid jokes and laughter the husks and ears would fly, until the work was done, when all hands would repair to the house, and, after partaking of a hearty supper, leave for home in high spirits.
Then came hog-killing time, a very heavy and disagreeable task, but the farmer has many of these, and learns to take them pleasantly. My father, with two or three expert hands dressed for the occasion, would slaughter and dress ten or a dozen large hogs in the course of a day. There were other actors besides in the play. It would be curious, indeed, if all hands were not employed when work was going on. My part in the performance was to attend to the fire under the great kettle in which the hogs were scalded, and to keep the water boiling,