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Updated: June 20, 2025
Half a pound of fresh butter. A pint of sugar-house molasses A pound and a half of flour. Four table-spoonfuls of ginger. Two large sticks of cinnamon, powered and sifted. Three dozen grains of allspice, powdered and sifted. Three dozen of cloves, powdered and sifted. The juice and grated peel of two large lemons. A little pearl-ash or salaeratus. Stir the butter and sugar to a cream.
At a loss for his meaning, yet without any real desire to fathom it, Kate turned back toward Gabriel. A moment they two looked at each other, each noting any change that might have taken place since that wonderful hour in the sugar-house, each hungering and thirsting for a sight of the other's face.
Into the sugar-house they went. The small room was hot and steamy, and in the middle of it in a zinc-lined tank the foaming sap was boiling furiously. Beside it stood McMasters, Mr. Carlton's foreman, a thermometer in his hand. "Good-morning, Mr. Bob," he said. "So you are coming to cast an eye on the maple-sugar! Last week we made syrup and bottled it. Not a bad day's work, eh?"
You see Farmer Brown had built a fire under the evaporator. Whitefoot's curiosity kept him at a place where he could peep out and watch all that was done. He saw Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's boy pour pails of sap into a great pan. By and by a delicious odor filled the sugar-house.
An attack by a detachment of Confederate cavalry upon the skirmishers of the 4th Wisconsin, in advance of the sugar-house, was easily thrown off, and a later demonstration by the Confederate infantry upon Paine's position in the grove shared the same fortune. Emory moved first the 8th New Hampshire, and afterwards the 133d and 173d New York, to the support of the 4th Wisconsin.
Stately walls, acres of roses, miles of oranges, unmeasured fields of cane, colossal sugar-house they were all there, and all the rest of it, with the slaves, slaves, slaves everywhere, whole villages of negro cabins.
At times often indeed his thoughts wandered to the maple-grove and the old sugar-house, far away on the Hudson. Memories of the girl would not be banished, nor longings for her. Who she might be, he still knew not. Unwilling to learn, he had refrained from looking up the number he had copied from the plate of the wrecked machine.
When he found his snug little nest and his store of food under that old box in the darkest corner of Farmer Brown's sugar-house, he knew that Farmer Brown's boy must have placed them there. It was better than the old place under the woodpile. It was the best place for a home Whitefoot ever had had. It didn't take him long to change his mind about leaving the little sugar-house.
Some perished with cold and hunger at Valley Forge; some died of fever in the horrible Old Sugar-house; some rotted alive in the Jersey prison-hulk; some lie buried under the gloomy walls of Dartmoor; and some there were whose fate was never known. It was the custom, formerly, to hold all meetings for the transaction of public business in the sanctuary.
One quart of sugar-house molasses. Two ounces of ginger, or more, if it is not very strong. Twelve dozen grains of allspice, powdered and sifted Six dozen cloves, powdered and sifted. Half an ounce of cinnamon, powdered and sifted. A half tea-spoonful of pearl-ash or salaeratus, dissolved in a little vinegar. Cut up the butter in the flour, and mix it with the ginger and other spice.
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